


Crawling Towards the Sun

by attackedastoria



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bodhi is a Sensitive Artist, Boys Kissing, Grinding, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Soft Boys, Soft Kisses, Wedge is a Not So Sensitive metalworker, awkward teen-level smut but hey, because one college AU wasn't enough, bodhi is not amused, here we go again, im sure you can guess where this is going, inappropriate metal sculptures, join me in rarepair hell, paint me like one of your French girls, typical art student bullshit, watch me bullshit my way through metalworking, we finally reached some smut everyone, wedge is a terrible flirt please send help, wedge your pickup lines still suck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-28
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2018-09-27 09:12:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9996302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attackedastoria/pseuds/attackedastoria
Summary: Bodhi starts drawing when he's five years old, and he never stops- he's afraid thatifhe stops, the world will collapse in around him, like it did when his father left his family to fend for themselves.--Wedge doesn't knowwhyhaphazardly welding metal together in a shower of molten sparks appeals to him so much, but it helps fill that hollow space in his heart that's always felt a little too empty since his parents died, so he decides to run with it.[the Art School!AU that again, no one asked for, but I'm doing it anyway]





	1. Chapter 1

 

 

Bodhi starts drawing when he's five years old, and he never stops- he's afraid that _if_ he stops, the world will collapse in around him, like it did when his father left his family to fend for themselves.

His mother buys him any and everything she can afford to encourage him, because he’s actually pretty good at it— colored pencils, pastels, acrylics, oils, charcoal, watercolor — _anything_ that Bodhi can get his hands on, he uses it. He doesn’t have many friends growing up, aside from his next door neighbor Jyn, who also loves to draw, and reads anything she can get her hands on that is even remotely related to art. Jyn always has Bodhi’s back, and Bodhi always has hers, and he’s fairly certain it’s going to be that way forever, because they don’t exactly _fit in_ him, not for anyone else to judge.

When senior year rolls around, Jyn decides that she wants to pursue art history so she can work in a museum— Bodhi has zero idea what he wants to do when his guidance counselor presses him for an answer, so he just shrugs.

“I just want to _draw_.”

 

————

 

Bodhi doesn’t particularly _want_ to go to college, but his mother insists, almost begging him, and he relents, because he would never deny his mother _anything_ after all that she's been through.

He sends out a few half-hearted applications with copies of his portfolio, and decides on attending the Alliance University of Illinois, because they’re the only one who offer him a decent ride, and they’re relatively close to home.

“You’re so _talented_ , my sweet,” Bodhi’s mother tells him, her dark eyes shining with pride. “It will be good for you. I always knew you were meant for great things, just wait.”

Bodhi doesn’t have the heart to tell his mother that a fine arts degree is worth about as much as _toilet paper_ these days, so he smiles and kisses her forehead instead, because it’s not like he wants to do anything _else_ with his life but create art, at the moment.

The first year at university is _awful_ , but by his second year, Bodhi can afford to move to a small apartment with his new friend Cassian, and things get a little easier now that he knows what the routine is going to be like.

Sophomore year should be a _piece of cake_ , he thinks.

 

————

 

“Hey, look out!”

Bodhi is walking to his next class when the sudden shout startles him from his thoughts— he snaps his gaze up from the grass and barely manages to avoid the soccer ball that is hurtling towards his face at an alarming speed, _what the fuck_ — dropping his sketchbook and portfolio in the process as he trips and falls right on his ass. _Fantastic._

_This has been a great day so far_ , Bodhi thinks as he starts to gather the loose-leaf work that has somehow managed to spill out of his sketchbook. Having his painting ripped apart in front of his entire class by Professor Draven wasn’t enough, _oh no_ , now he has people throwing things at his face while he’s minding his own business. Excellent. _Perfect_. It’s like high school all over again.

“Shit, sorry…” the voice comes again, and Bodhi looks up, squinting slightly against the very bright sunlight outlining the dark figure currently hovering over him. “Here, let me help with that… didn’t mean to almost bash your brains in, man.”

“It’s fine..” Bodhi mutters despite his irritation, because this isn’t high school, and he doubts the guy did it on _purpose_. His ‘attacker’ crouches down regardless, helping him gather up the papers, and when Bodhi glances at him, he freezes for a moment, because he _recognizes_ him—

“Wedge Antilles?…” Bodhi hedges, taking the pile of papers that the guy hands to him and shoving them back into his sketchbook— the guy looks surprised as he meets his eyes, tilting his head to the side with a curious grin.

“Have we met before? If we have, I’m sorry, I don’t usually forget such a pretty face…” Wedge smirks, arching one eyebrow, and Bodhi quickly snatches up the rest of the sketches and shoves them plus his sketchbook into his bag— his face feels slightly hot, and he refuses to look up as he grabs his portfolio.

“Pretty sure you’re friends with my roommate, Cassian Andor,” Bodhi mutters, pushing himself to his feet and adjusting the strap of his messenger bag. Wedge looks surprised as he rises as well, his other eyebrow shooting up as he smirks.

“ _You’re_ Cassian’s roommate? He’s been holding out on me…” he clicks his tongue, sounding very disappointed, and Bodhi resists the urge to roll his eyes— he’s heard _all about_ this guy, from Cassian and Jyn, and apparently everything they’d said was accurate.

“I gotta get to class.. try not to kill anyone else, I hear the administration frowns on that,” Bodhi snorts softly, already turning and walking away. Wedge grins at his retreating back, using the toe of one foot to kick the soccer ball up into his hands as he calls after Bodhi, sounding _very_ amused.

“What, you get to know my name, but I don’t get to know _yours?_ ”

Bodhi ignores him and continues walking, because he doesn’t have time to put up with this shit, today. He starts going over his next presentation in his head, and doesn’t think about the encounter again for the rest of the day.

 

————

 

Three hours and an absolutely _soul-crushing_ crit of his latest watercolor study later, Bodhi finds himself sitting under a tree in the quad with Jyn, sketching the profile of her face as she eats an apple and reads a chapter out of her art history book. Bodhi flicks his eyes over her hair, lightening his pencil strokes to capture the wispiness of the strands framing her face today.

“Tilt your head towards me a bit,” Bodhi mutters, and Jyn complies, eyes still on her book as she takes a huge bite of her apple.

“I heard Antilles almost killed you today,” Jyn says suddenly, mumbling a little around a mouthful of apple, and Bodhi’s pencil scratches across the paper a little too hard. He frowns, using his eraser to try and correct it. 

“How did you hear that?” Bodhi asks, though he already knows the answer— Jyn smirks as she flicks her eyes up from her book, and Bodhi wishes he had his pastels on him, because her eyes look absolutely _verdant_ today.

“Cassian. _Apparently_ Wedge was bitching during their Metallurgy class that you ran away without even giving him your name…” Jyn is still smirking as she turns her eyes back to her book, and Bodhi rolls his eyes, because why the fuck did Wedge even care?

“I didn’t _run away_ , I had a class to get to,” Bodhi scowls, focusing on darkening a few strands of Jyn’s hair, “That guy is just as terrible as you said, for the record.”

Jyn laughs, shoving the core of her apple back into her lunch bag after she takes the last bite. “He’s alright.. wicked sense of humor, _terrible_ flirt with equally terrible lines. It’s slightly adorable, sometimes.”

Bodhi snorts slightly, shaking his head— his thoughts drift back to Wedge’s slightly crooked smirk, the somewhat messy fall of his dark hair over his brow that had made Bodhi’s hands twitch _ever so slightly_ with the urge to sketch him. He feels the back of his neck heat up ever so slightly and tries to ignore it. “Yeah… sure.”

Jyn arches one perfect brow at him almost comically, a smirk tugging at her lips, and Bodhi flips to a new page in his sketchbook, because as _annoying_ as Jyn is most of the time, her facial expressions are always wonderful to sketch.

 

————

 

Bodhi stops at the campus coffee shop before heading back to his apartment, because he is exhausted, but he still has to bang out a watercolor still life for class tomorrow. He’s probably pushing himself towards an early grave with the amount of caffeine he now consumes on a daily basis, but so is everyone _else_ in this hell hole, honestly. Why did he want to be an artist, again? He never _thought_ he was a masochist, but he was starting to reconsider, lately.

Bodhi reaches into his back pocket for his wallet, absently wondering if he’ll have enough money left to go buy a pack of cigarettes since he’s almost out— someone reaches around him from behind, slapping a ten dollar bill on the counter, and Bodhi curses as he almost _jumps out of his skin_ , looking quickly over his shoulder—

Wedge grins at him, because of _course_ it’s Wedge fucking Antilles, for some god awful reason, “Allow me.. you know, to apologize, for almost knocking your pretty face off earlier.”

“Are you _stalking_ me?” is Bodhi’s sharp reply, because seriously, he is so over this day, he just wants to _go home_ — Wedge arches an eyebrow and moves to lean on the counter next to Bodhi, who absolutely refuses to look at him.

“Do you want me to?” Wedge smiles charmingly, and Bodhi resolutely stares straight ahead at the menu, praying that the barista finishes his triple soon.

“Don’t you have something _better_ to do than bother me?” Bodhi sighs, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. Wedge shrugs one shoulder, still smiling.

“Not really.. Cassian wouldn’t tell me your name, you know. He was _very_ rude.” Wedge laments, looking slightly put out. Bodhi snorts softly and hides a small smile, because of _course_ Cassian wouldn’t tell him— he probably _enjoys_ tormenting Wedge.

“What a pity…” Bodhi mutters, relieved as the barista finally arrives with his triple— he reaches for his wallet again, but Wedge shoves the ten dollar bill across the counter towards the barista.

“Seriously, on me.” Wedge insists, and Bodhi sighs before deciding it’s not worth the argument— he lets Wedge pay, and scoops up his triple as Wedge orders himself a mocha.

“Thanks,” Bodhi mutters, shifting his bag and grabbing his portfolio up from where he’d set it against the counter. Wedge gives him another charming smile, and Bodhi looks away quickly, because his fingers are twitching with the urge to sketch again—

“You gonna tell me your name, now? I _swear_ I don’t bite, honest,” Wedge winks, and Bodhi allows a very small smile to tug at the corner of his mouth, lifting his coffee to his lips so he can hide it.

“Nope.”

Bodhi walks away, and Wedge stares after him, mouth hanging open slightly, before he recovers and grins slowly, like he’s just discovered a very challenging puzzle that he can’t _wait_ to solve. 

 

————

 

Instead of working on his watercolor later that night, Bodhi finds himself sketching Wedge’s face from memory, brow furrowed as he tries to get the fall of his hair and the set of his crooked smile right.

He crumples the paper up when he’s done and tosses it in the trash can underneath his desk, feeling like an absolute _idiot,_ and breaks out his last cigarette before grabbing his watercolors off the shelf over his desk.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do I have to get naked?

 

 

Wedge doesn’t know _why_ haphazardly welding metal together in a shower of molten sparks appeals to him so much, but it helps fill that hollow space in his heart that’s always felt a little too empty since his parents died, so he decides to run with it.

He ends up at Alliance University of Illinois because it’s relatively affordable and has a huge metalworks program— his uncle is kind enough to co-sign his student loans after Wedge _absolutely_ promises to pay him back for everything and not fuck up. They both _know_ Wedge probably won’t ever be able to pay him a cent, and will probably fuck up to some serious degree, but hey— it’s the thought that counts.

So, Wedge packs up what little belongings he has, tells his boss at the auto shop to go fuck himself, and books it the hell out of Michigan without looking back.

 

————

 

Wedge had no idea there was so much bullshit involved with metalworking, but he rolls with it, despite being slightly overwhelmed. He doesn’t know who came up with _metallurgical chemistry_ , but he thinks they might have been _high._

As boring as the coursework is, the shop time and hands-on experience Wedge gets is amazing, especially compared to the scrap metal he had to work with out of his uncle’s garage back home, so he can’t really complain.

His first year passes by in a blur— his second year he decides to throw a little blacksmithing and forge work into his courses, because finding new ways to burn himself is _always_ fun. The fact that he seems to excel at everything drives his teachers _insane_ , because he backtalks more than anyone else in the course— even his friends Cassian and _Kay_ —and asks way too many questions about why some of the techniques being taught are so outdated.

Wedge is pretty sure the entire metalworks faculty hates him, but they can’t really _do_ anything about it, since his work is impeccable and his grades are top of his class. He’s more than fine with that.

 

————

 

“Hey, you wanna do an extra credit project with me?”

Wedge cuts his arc welder off amid a shower of sparks, and flips his mask up with one hand, squinting as he looks up from his position on the floor— Luke is grinning down at him, cheerful as ever, and Wedge wonders how the hell Luke always manages to sneak in to the shop despite being an _architecture student._

“What kind of project?” Wedge asks, looking back down at his current sculpture and examining the welds he’s just finished on the base— this piece was going to be huge, bigger than he anticipated. His teacher was probably going to complain. _Again._

Luke peers over Wedge’s shoulder curiously, arching one eyebrow as he tries to figure out what the hell Wedge is making _this_ time, “The art department is looking for volunteers for a drawing class. They need models to pair with their students, it lasts for about a week, and you get some kind of credit towards this semester, or something. I thought it sounded kinda fun?”

“Do I have to get naked?” Wedge smirks, yanking on a piece of metal, testing the join to make sure it won’t snap— Luke snorts and rolls his eyes, looking unimpressed.

“It’s not _that_ kind of modeling, asshole,” Luke explains, sounding ever so slightly exasperated. Wedge hums with disappointment and pushes himself off the floor, wincing a little as his knees crack in protest.

“Well, what’s the fun in _that?”_ he jokes, and Luke shoves Wedge’s shoulder, shaking his head.

“You’re the _worst_ , I swear…” Luke sighs, but he’s smiling as he arches an eyebrow. “Do you wanna come with me, or no?”

Wedge yanks his gloves off with a sigh before removing his mask next, pushing his sweaty hair off his forehead with one hand, “Yeah, sure, I could always use the credit… when?”

Luke grins happily and claps Wedge on the shoulder, “Tomorrow, right after your Metallurgy class. Meet up outside the arts building?”

“Deal,” Wedge chuckles, then gives Luke a shove, making a shooing motion with his other hand. “Now get the hell out of here before Raddus shows up and starts bitching at me about you sneaking in, _again_.”

Luke gives him a cocky salute and winks before turning to leave, _trying_ to be sneaky about it, and Wedge rolls his eyes— that kid was more trouble than he was worth, sometimes.

 

————

 

After a positively _riveting_ lecture on micro metallography that nearly puts him to sleep, Wedge makes his way over to the old arts building where all the hipsters tend to hang out. Luke is waiting for him near the steps, and smiles brightly when he spots Wedge approaching.

“Hey! C’mon, I got the room number we’re supposed to go to,” Luke grins, turning to head up the steps, and Wedge arches an eyebrow as he follows after his friend.

“You’re _sure_ I don’t have to get naked for this?” Wedge muses, because that sounds way more fun to him, and Luke snorts, giving him a look over his shoulder.

“Maybe you will if you play your cards right,” Luke says sarcastically, and Wedge grins, shifting his bag on his shoulder.

“So I’ll _definitely_ be getting naked, then.”

Luke groans and doesn’t dignify Wedge with a response, because he’s learned by now not to encourage him.

When they find the right room, there’s already a group of people waiting outside the door— Wedge doesn’t really recognize anyone, but then again, he doesn’t hang around the other art departments too much. He shoves his hands into his pockets, prepared to wait, but before he can settle himself against the wall, the door opens.

“Oh, good.. looks like everyone’s here. Please, come in!” The teacher is an older man, with a kind smile and a greying beard, and he steps aside as he beckons everyone into the classroom. “Welcome, and thank you for volunteering.. I’m Mr. Kenobi, but please, do call me Ben.”

Wedge shuffles into the classroom with Luke and the other volunteers, arching one eyebrow as he looks around curiously. The room is flooded with natural light due to one entire wall being windows, and the other walls are absolutely plastered with drawings, sketches, and paintings in more mediums than Wedge can even begin to identify. There’s a group of students clustered towards the back of the room, sitting behind easels, looking _slightly_ apprehensive—

Ben claps his hands together and smiles once everyone is inside, then turns to face his students as he speaks, “I have a surprise assignment for you, this week. Each of you will be paired with a partner from another department of the university, for the duration of one week,” Ben explains, earning a few soft groans. “You will be responsible for getting to know your partner, and completing at least ten different drawings of them, aimed at capturing their distinct personalities. Choice of medium is up to you, but do try to use at least five different ones. You are also responsible for arranging enough time with your partner to complete your work, no excuses!”

Wedge smirks as he listens, both of his eyebrows shooting up in surprise— capturing his _distinct personality_ , huh? Well, maybe this was going to be more fun than he thought. Luke nudges him, grinning and looking a little excited, and Wedge snorts softly as he elbows him in return.

Ben claps his hands again and smiles as he retrieves a clipboard off his desk, turning towards the volunteers, “Now, when you give me your name, I’ll assign you a partner. I ask that you please do your best to make at least one to two hours of your schedule free per day to accommodate my students, if your schedule will allow it.”

Wedge nods as everyone else murmurs their agreement— two hours shouldn’t be too hard to clear up, as long as his partner doesn’t mind him looking like a mess after working in the shop. He rocks back on his heels as Ben starts to take names and pair people up, peering towards the back of the classroom curiously, hoping maybe he’ll at least get someone _cute_ if he has to be their little prop for two hours a day—

“And your name, young man?” 

Wedge snaps his head around to find Ben smiling at him politely, pen against his clipboard, and gives him a smile in return, “Wedge, Wedge Antilles. Sir.”

Ben chuckles a little as he scans his list, making a thoughtful sound, “Antilles.. you’re Raddus’ little troublemaker, are you not?”

Wedge lets out a loud snort, unable to help himself, because that is the funniest damn thing he’s heard today— “Uh, I don’t know _what_ you’re talking about, sir…”

Ben smirks ever so slightly and starts writing on his clipboard, “Indeed.. well, I know _just_ who to pair you with, I daresay he’s my best student… Bodhi Rook, raise your hand, please!”

Wedge turns and spots a hand shoot up in the very back of the room— he plasters on his most charming smile as he makes his way over, carefully weaving around easels and other students— and suddenly stops short, when he gets a look at his partner, because he _recognizes_ him.

It’s Cassian’s mysterious, _unfairly attractive_ roommate, the one he’d nearly brained with a soccer ball a few days ago, who had _not_ been amused by Wedge’s attempts at flirting. Christmas has decided to come early, apparently. 

Bodhi hasn’t even _looked_ at Wedge, too busy sketching something on the easel in front of him with what Wedge assumes is a stick of charcoal, judging by the black dust all over his hands. He takes the opportunity to quickly rake his eyes over Mr. Mysterious, appreciating what he sees all over again— typical art hipster uniform of worn jeans, a v-neck, and a threadbare cardigan, all splattered with paint and ink stains in varying degrees. Dark, wavy hair gathered into an incredibly haphazard bun at the back of his neck, intense brown eyes that are currently fixed on whatever he’s drawing, _incredibly_ distracting lips that are currently being bitten in concentration—

Oh, yeah. Christmas definitely came early for Wedge. He must have been a _really_ good boy this year.

Wedge clears his throat after a moment, and Bodhi startles a little, snapping his head over to look at him— his eyes go very, _very_ wide, and Wedge can’t help himself as he smirks at him with all the charm he can muster.

“Well, well.. hello there, _Bodhi Rook_.”

Bodhi ducks his head, muttering a soft but fierce, _“Are you fucking kidding me?”_ , under his breath, and Wedge smiles with absolute delight. 

This is going to be a _fun_ week— possibly the best week Wedge has had in ages. He can’t _wait._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedge, you are such a little fucker. Never change.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Look, I promise I won't send you dick pics.

 

 

Bodhi is fairly certain that Ben _planned_ this, somehow, and shoots the old man a small glare as he sweeps out of the classroom with Wedge right on his heels. 

“Now, I know what you’re thinking, but I _swear_ , I’m not a stalker,” Wedge says, smiling with great amusement as he keeps pace at Bodhi’s side in the hallway. “Not even _I_ could plan something this great.”

“I’m sure…” Bodhi mutters, still reeling just a bit from the fact that he has to put up with Wedge Antilles for an _entire week_ and draw his stupid face multiple times. He pushes the door open hard and squints as bright afternoon sunlight hits his face, shifting his bag as he jogs down the steps.

“So, how you wanna do this?” Wedge trails after him, still smiling, “I’ve got an hour to kill before my next class if you want to get started now… we can figure out our schedules, and I can try my best to convince you that I’m _not_ a total asshole. It’ll be fun.”

Wedge and Bodhi seem to have very different ideas of _fun_ , Bodhi decides, and he lets out a long sigh, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment. He has to do this assignment, it’s not negotiable, and he supposes that he might as well just rip the band-aid off _now—_

“ _Fine_.. c’mon,” Bodhi sighs, shifting his bag again as he starts to walk towards one of the grassy areas between the arts buildings. The late afternoon light is good right now, he might as well take advantage of it. Wedge grins as he trails after Bodhi, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Cassian never mentioned you were some super good artist,” Wedge comments, and Bodhi snorts softly.

“Cassian doesn’t mention a lot of things,” Bodhi mutters, heading towards his favorite spot under a fairly large Japanese maple tree. He drops his bag as he sits, leaning back against the thin trunk of the tree, and starts to pull out one of his larger, brown toned paper sketchbooks as he glances up at Wedge. “You gonna sit down, or what?”

Wedge drops his own bag and sits obediently, crossing his legs as he looks at Bodhi with one arched eyebrow, “So.. what exactly do I do, here?”

Bodhi snorts a little as he flips his sketchbook open to a blank page, then leans over, searching for his case of pencils, “Sit there, pretty much. Do what I tell you to do.”

“Well, _that_ I can certainly do…” Wedge smirks, leaning back on his hands in the soft grass, and Bodhi feels the back of his neck get warm as he snaps his pencil case open. He decides to go with his carbon pencils, wanting darker tones, and slips two of them between his teeth as he closes the case again and puts it away.

“Look directly at me. Please,” Bodhi instructs, slightly muffled by his pencils, as he lays his sketchbook across his propped up knees. Wedge complies, tilting his head and smiling playfully as he meets Bodhi’s eyes.

“Man, I have to stare at a cute guy for an hour? Being a model is rough work…” Wedge chuckles, his dark eyes dancing as he quirks one eyebrow— Bodhi takes his pencils out of his mouth and presses his lips together in a thin line, well aware that his face is starting to flush. God, why did he have to get stuck with this flirty moron?

“Try not to talk,” Bodhi suggests helpfully, narrowing his eyes just a bit as he places his pencil against the paper— Wedge smirks, but complies, sitting there silently as Bodhi starts to sketch. 

Wedge has nice features, Bodhi has to admit. Fairly symmetrical, angular, lots of character, not _boring_. Extremely expressive eyes and brows. Bodhi zones out a little as he works, getting lost in the familiar, rhythmic sound of pencil scratching against paper—

Bodhi’s starting to work on a second rough sketch when Wedge finally speaks again, his voice startling Bodhi out of his zone just a bit, “How long have you been drawing?”

Bodhi blinks, tapping his pencil against the paper, “Um.. since I was five, just about. Can you turn your head to the right?”

Wedge complies with an amused smile, and Bodhi tilts his own head a bit, eyeing the lines of his profile— very nice, once again, he admits. He likes stronger noses, because again, character.. Bodhi starts a new sketch, quiet for a few moments as his eyes flick from the paper to Wedge’s face, eyeing the haphazard fall of his hair as a light breeze kicks it around, surprised by how _soft_ it looks— “What, uh… what do you do?” Bodhi asks, before remembering Wedge has classes with Cassian, so it must be something with metalworks, obviously.

Wedge tilts his head towards him a little bit, like he can’t resist meeting Bodhi’s eyes when he answers, “Metalwork.. welded sculpture, mostly. Some smithing.”

Bodhi flicks his eyes down to Wedge’s exposed arms, catching sight of a few fading burn scars— the telltale sign of a metalworker. He turns his gaze back to his sketchbook quickly, before Wedge can notice him eyeing the way the sleeve of his shirt clings to his well-defined bicep, “How long have you been doing that?”

Wedge turns his face back to the side as he makes a thoughtful sound, “Shit, I don’t know.. since sixth grade? My uncle gave me his old arc welder and let me go at it in his garage with some scrap metal. It’s a miracle I didn’t burn it down.”

Bodhi snorts out a soft laugh and smiles a little before he can help himself, filling in the lines of Wedge’s hair with smooth, dark strokes, “Cassian says you’re a little.. unorthodox.”

“I get bored easily,” Wedge replies, smirking ever so slightly, and Bodhi doesn’t doubt _that_ for a moment. He finishes the sketch and prompts Wedge to turn his face the other way, starting up another sketch as he complies without complaint. 

“Sitting around like a prop has to be pretty boring, then,” Bodhi muses quietly, eyeing the line of Wedge’s jaw as he sketches quickly— Wedge tilts his head to catch Bodhi’s eyes again, another smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“The scenery is pretty damn nice,” Wedge replies easily, flicking his eyes over Bodhi in a _very_ obvious way— Bodhi bites the inside of his cheek and stares down at his sketchbook intently, reminding himself that according to Jyn, Wedge flirts with anything that has a _pulse._

Bodhi doesn’t say anything in reply, continuing to sketch as Wedge turns his head back to the proper position with a smile. This sketch is more rough, more loose, and Bodhi bites his lip, squinting slightly, because he suddenly wants to draw—

“Look at me again,” he asks abruptly, and Wedge snaps his head around, one eyebrow arched as he stares at Bodhi expectantly. “I need… can you move closer? I need to see your eyes better.”

“Whatever the artist wants,” Wedge chuckles, sliding himself closer and leaning in just a bit, resting one arm over his upturned knee casually. Bodhi bites the inside of his cheek again, leaning in a little bit as he tilts his head to the side, starting to sketch again— Wedge’s eyelashes are surprisingly long, very thick, and he strokes them out on the paper in quick, dark lines—

“I’m usually free after one during most of the week, for an hour or two,” Wedge says suddenly, startling Bodhi. “I’m free on Friday after seven, and Saturday after two.”

Bodhi blinks as he leans back, tapping his pencil against his sketchbook, going over his own schedule in his head, “Uh.. I can probably catch you around one-thirty during the week. I’m free all day on Saturday this week.”

Wedge grins, and Bodhi is momentarily distracted as he notices the way it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Perfect.. where you wanna meet up? Actually, here,” Wedge shifts to the side a bit so he can pull his phone out of his pocket. “Why don’t you give me your number, I'll give you mine, it'll be easier to figure everything out.”

Bodhi arches one eyebrow, hesitating, because he knows that giving Wedge his phone number is a _terrible idea_ — Wedge gives him a look, holding his hands up in an innocent gesture.

“Look, I _promise_ I won’t send you dick pics,” Wedge vows solemnly, and Bodhi snorts loudly, covering his eyes with one hand, because this guy is an _idiot_ , god help him—

Bodhi decides to give Wedge his number anyway, because it will be the easiest way to plan meeting up and getting the assignment done, and saves Wedge's number in his own phone as well. Wedge tries not to look smug when he puts his phone away, and fails miserably at it. 

“I gotta get going, I’m afraid,” Wedge says, and Bodhi nods, reaching into his bag so he can put his pencils away— he moves to close his sketchbook next, but Wedge stops him, leaning forward and craning his head around curiously as he looks at the paper.

“Wow,” Wedge blinks, his eyes widening just a bit— Bodhi wants to say he seems almost.. flattered? “You’re pretty damn good at this whole drawing thing.”

“Yeah, it’s almost like I’m an _artist_ , or something…” Bodhi mutters, feeling a smirk twitch at the corner of his mouth as he closes the sketchbook and tucks it into his bag. Wedge snorts, grinning down at Bodhi as he climbs to his feet and dusts his jeans off.

“Cute, talented, _and_ a smartass.. you’re killin’ me here, Bodhi.” Wedge smirks, offering one hand to help Bodhi up— Bodhi rolls his eyes as he takes it, trying not to blush as Wedge pulls him to his feet with ease, because he is _not_ slightly charmed. He’s not. Really.

“I’ll let you know when I’m free tomorrow,” Bodhi says, settling his bag over his shoulder and already starting to walk away, because this guy is _seriously_ too much, and this is going to be the longest week _ever._ Wedge watches him go with an amused grin before he scoops his own bag up off the ground and slings it over his shoulder, cupping one hand around his mouth as he calls after Bodhi.

“It’s a date!”

Bodhi hunches his shoulders and walks faster, trying to ignore the way people are _looking_ at him, now. _Asshole._

 

————

 

Bodhi meets up with Jyn and Cassian at the small diner near the apartment after his evening art history class— they’ve already ordered him a plate of belgian waffles with extra whipped cream, because they are wonderful friends.

“Are you going on a date with Wedge Antilles?” is the first thing out of Cassian’s mouth when Bodhi sits down, and Bodhi viciously takes back every nice thought he just had about Cassian as he glares at him.

“ _No_ ,” Bodhi replies vehemently, pouring an unhealthy amount of cream into the mug of coffee that Jyn pushes towards him. “What the _hell_ would ever give you that idea?”

“Wedge,” Cassian smirks, sipping his own coffee as Jyn tries her very best not to laugh from her seat beside him. “He wouldn’t _shut up_ about you during shop today.”

Bodhi’s eyes widen slightly as he stares at his friend, coffee halfway to his mouth, “He _what?”_

“Bodhi is _so talented_ , why didn’t you tell me, Cass? Is he single?” Cassian mocks with a shit-eating grin on his face, and beside him, Jyn bursts out laughing. “What do you mean he’s _too nice_ for me? Why the fuck did you hide your _super hot_ roommate from me for this long? Have you seen him draw, it’s _so hot.._ ” 

Bodhi’s face is burning as he groans and drops his head down against the table with a loud thump— this is not happening to him. It’s _not_. He fell asleep in his art history class, and is going to wake up any second now.

“Wedge is an idiot if he thought you wouldn’t tell Bodhi any of this,” Jyn muses, her eyes bright as she grins over at Bodhi. Cassian snorts with agreement, shaking his head.

“He knew I would,” Cassian agrees, raking one hand back through his still slightly sweaty, messy hair, and looking entirely too amused. “Hey, we _warned_ you what Wedge was like. Several times.”

Bodhi groans softly into the cradle of his arms, and Jyn reaches out to pat him on the head with sympathy, “Oh, hush. It’s kind of cute that he’s a complete idiot, honestly.”

Bodhi lifts his head to give Jyn the most baleful glare in his arsenal, and she simply smiles, patting his arm, “Drink your coffee, darling, before you get even more cranky.”

Bodhi turns his glare up another notch, but grabs his coffee and takes a huge gulp of it, anyway, “It’s _not_ a date, it’s an _assignment_ ,” he insists, clutching the mug tightly between his fingers. He is going to _murder_ Wedge when he sees him. Cassian nods solemnly, while Jyn grins at him over the rim of her own mug of coffee, looking entirely too amused by Bodhi’s suffering.

Bodhi refuses to say anything else about the matter, and spends the rest of his time at the diner shoving waffles into his face, trying to convince himself that this week was going to be just _fine._

It probably won’t be, but he still tries to convince himself that it will be.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Bodhi.. this is going to be the longest week of your _life_ , my son.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Wedge resists the urge to send Bodhi about fifty texts, but only _just_ barely.

He has early workshop today, which is great, because has a ton of energy he needs to focus into something. The shop is already crackling with activity when he gets there and goes to change at his locker, pulling on his coveralls over his street clothes and making sure to zip it all the way up today, because he didn’t want to catch a piece of slag on the neck again. He grabs his leather apron, his gloves, and mask before kicking his locker shut and heading towards the back of the shop, anxious to get to work—

Wedge stops short and stares at his sculpture, because someone has decided to weld a _giant metal dick_ onto it. An anatomically correct dick, even. He’s slightly impressed.

Wedge whirls around as he hears a snort of laughter— Cassian’s lips are twitching as he tries not to laugh, but he holds up his hands innocently as Wedge glares at him suspiciously.

“Wasn’t me, man,” Cassian smirks, flipping his mask back down and cutting on his welder as he gets back to work. No, this isn’t Cassian’s style, Wedge decides. Cassian is more _subtle_ about being an asshole. Wedge hears some more snickering to the right of him, and he knows _exactly_ who did this.

Wedge presses his lips together as he examines the _lovely_ new addition to his artwork, wondering if he’s going to have to cut the fucking thing off— but the join is sloppy, flimsy, and after two solid kicks, the dick snaps off and clatters to floor, leaving behind a few jagged edges of metal that he’ll have to grind off. _Wonderful_. He picks the metal monstrosity up and tucks it under one arm as he strolls past a few of his classmates, who are all trying and _failing_ not to laugh at him—

“Is this your subtle way of telling me you miss me?” Wedge asks, dropping the metal dong unceremoniously on the floor next to where Wes Janson is working. Wes cuts off his electrode and shoves his mask up, looking completely and utterly innocent as he glances down at the shining dick now occupying his workspace.

“This was _subtle_?” Wes arches one eyebrow as he sets welder aside, and Wedge looks completely unamused as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“It’s going to take me at least half an hour to grind that shit off, asshole,” he sighs, shaking his head, and Wes grins, completely unrepentant.

“That’s what you get for missing poker night, dickweed,” Wes shrugs, and Wedge rolls his eyes.

“I told you I was _busy_ —,” he starts, but Wes cuts him off with a snort.

“Yeah, yeah. I hear you got a hot date with one of the art hipsters… is that why you’re ditching all your wonderful, _amazing_ friends?” Wes asks, smirking as he tugs on a few pieces of his metal sculpture— one of them creaks, and he frowns, trying to find the weak spot.

“It’s not a _date_ , I’m helping him out with a project,” Wedge snorts, then pauses, frowning a little. “I mean, I _wish_ it was a date, dude’s gorgeous..”

Wes snickers, still searching for the weak spot on his sculpture, “You’re fuckin’ hopeless, Antilles. And if you miss another poker night, I’ll add some more _character_ to your piece. _Huge_ character. Maybe with some veins this time.”

“You _disgust_ me, Janson,” Wedge sighs, slapping his friend on the shoulder— he leans over, immediately spotting the the weak part of the join, and points it out as he arches one eyebrow. “Fix that before this heap of crap falls apart and hurts someone.”

Wes shoves him away with a scowl, picking up his rig again as he snaps his mask back down, “Have fun grinding dick residue off your piece, _Wedgie_.”

Wedge flips Wes off with a cheerful grin as he heads back towards his workspace, already plotting his revenge in his head.

 

————

 

Wedge ends up spending an hour grinding and smoothing, then another two hours welding the rest of the base together. Raddus looks _incredibly_ exasperated when he comes by to check his work, because Wedge can’t seem to make a _reasonably sized_ piece to save his life, but he says nothing and lets him continue working.

It’s around one by the time Wedge finishes up and goes to change out of his shop clothes, shoving them back into his locker with little ceremony. He desperately needs a shower, like he always does after working in the shop, and practically sprints back to his shitty studio apartment just outside campus, hoping he has enough time to squeeze one in—

Wedge takes the quickest shower of his _life_ and snatches his phone off his desk— it’s almost one-thirty now, so he pulls up Bodhi’s number and shoots him a text.

 

 **To: Bodhi Rockin’**  
hey cutie, you excited to stare at my incredible face some more?

 **From: Bodhi Rockin’**  
Positively thrilled…  
Meet me outside the main arts building in 15.

 

Wedge grins as he goes to pull on a v-neck and a pair of his best fitted jeans, wanting to look good— he can practically _see_ Bodhi rolling his eyes through the text. Impressive.

 

————

 

Bodhi is waiting for him, leaning against one of the pillars of the fancy old building, smoking a cigarette, and Wedge takes a moment to appreciate the view as he approaches.

Another pair of fitted, ripped jeans, tucked into extremely battered, unlaced boots— Wedge’s eyes travel up, and there’s no cardigan today, just a dark blue v-neck. Bodhi’s covered in more paint than yesterday, if possible, splattered on his jeans and shirt, streaked across his hands, his arms— there’s a even a streak across his throat, and that is _entirely_ too distracting for Wedge to handle, what the hell.

Wedge can tell when Bodhi spots him, because his face shifts from bored to mildly annoyed, and Wedge smirks as he jogs up the steps towards him, “You get into a fight with a paintbrush and lose?”

Bodhi arches one eyebrow, unimpressed, and Wedge watches as he pulls the cigarette from his lips and crushes it out on the heel of his boot. _Fuck_ , that shouldn’t be so hot.

“Come with me,” Bodhi instructs without preamble, turning on his heel and stalking towards the door to the building. Wedge follows after him, arching one eyebrow as he takes the opportunity to admire Bodhi’s ass in those jeans, because _damn_.

“Anywhere, baby,” Wedge grins, and even though he can’t see it, he _knows_ Bodhi is rolling his eyes. Bodhi takes him to some kind of studio classroom that’s currently empty, scattered with easels and all kinds of junk that Wedge assumes are props for painting.

“Sit, please,” Bodhi instructs, pointing him to a chair that’s sitting in front of an easel, and Wedge obeys, sprawling out and putting his hands behind his head as he watches Bodhi go to adjust the blinds on the windows and turn on a few lamps, to get the lighting he wants, Wedge assumes.

“You gonna paint me like one of your french girls, today?” Wedge smirks, both eyebrows shooting up curiously— Bodhi glares at him over his shoulder and snaps another blind shut before stalking over to him, eyeing Wedge up and down in a way Wedge _knows_ is purely professional, but makes his body heat up regardless.

“Do you _ever_ stop talking,” Bodhi mutters, mostly to himself, and Wedge smiles up at him, tipping his chair back on two legs.

“Not really,” he admits, and Bodhi sighs heavily before going to sit behind his easel— he already has a palette full of colors prepped, and Wedge watches curiously as he picks up what looks like a stick of graphite, or maybe charcoal.

“How do you want me?” Wedge asks, not sure how he should pose— Bodhi’s eyes rake quickly over his body, and Wedge definitely notices the way they linger on his arms before flicking away. He smirks, because hauling around sheet metal every day has admittedly done _great_ things for his biceps and shoulders, and makes a mental note to maybe wear a tank top tomorrow.

“How you are is fine, if you can hold it,” Bodhi mutters, already starting to sketch, and Wedge hums with agreement, planting his foot more firmly against the floor to balance himself a little better. He watches Bodhi as he works, enjoying the intent look of concentration in his dark eyes, the way he bites his lip and burrows his brow when he sketches something that Wedge assumes is difficult—

“You’re cute when you concentrate,” Wedge smirks, arching one eyebrow playfully as Bodhi shoots him a glare— the effect is kind of ruined by the fact that Bodhi’s cheeks are a little flushed.

“You’re way more tolerable when you aren’t talking,” Bodhi retorts, putting his graphite down and reaching for a brush from the jar on the small table next to him. Wedge smiles as he watches him load the brush up with paint, tilting his head just a bit and wishing he could see the canvas.

“I get that a lot,” Wedge muses, feeling a small pang of satisfaction as Bodhi snorts and struggles to keep himself from smiling.

“Yeah, I fucking bet,” Bodhi mutters, and then his eyes go sharp and intense again as he starts to paint, making Wedge want to shiver ever so slightly. He’s really not used to people looking at him like _that_. It’s almost unnerving.

Wedge keeps quiet, not wanting to interrupt Bodhi’s focus— he’s content to just watch him again, honestly. Bodhi clearly puts a lot of effort and care into his art, judging from his intensity. Everyone Wedge works with wears masks, so he doesn’t get to see this kind of thing, the intensity and passion on people’s faces when they’re doing what they love. It’s a good look, he decides. Especially on Bodhi.

Forty minutes later, Wedge’s leg and arms are starting to ache a little, and Bodhi must notice, because he leans away from the canvas and cleans his brush off, “You can get up and stretch… sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Wedge grunts as he stretches, pushing himself up from the chair— he winces a little as his shoulders pop a bit, shaking them out. “Can I see?”

Bodhi sighs heavily, stretching his own arms over his head as he leans back in his chair— Wedge takes a moment to appreciate the view as Bodhi’s shirt rides up a bit, revealing a sliver of tan skin and dark hair. _Fuck._

“Sure,” Bodhi agrees, frowning just a bit as he eyes the canvas. Wedge steps around behind him curiously, and freezes, because seeing himself captured in a painting? _That_ is weird. Seeing himself captured like _this_ in a painting, by _Bodhi?_ Also kind of sexy.

It’s rough, but it’s _good_ — Bodhi is clearly the top of his class for a reason. Wedge vaguely wonders if he actually looks _that_ good when he smirks, or if Bodhi is just being generous. “Wow… the flattery never ends, I see.”

Bodhi blinks, brow furrowing slightly as he looks at the painting, examining it— “What? That’s just what you look like, I’m not fucking around or anything,” he insists, and Wedge wonders if Bodhi even _realizes_ what he just admitted.

If this is what Bodhi sees when he looks at him, well— maybe Wedge isn’t _completely_ wasting his time with all the flirting, after all.

 

————

 

Half an hour later, Wedge reluctantly has to leave so he can go to class. He debates skipping, but that is a horrible habit to pick up again, so he decides against it.

“Thanks for sitting so still, I know it’s a pain,” Bodhi sighs, shooting Wedge a quick smile as he cleans off his brushes. Wedge pushes himself out of the chair and smiles in return, rolling his shoulders to try and ease some of the stiffness.

“Not a problem,” he says, stepping forward so he can peer around the easel again, curious. Jesus _christ_ , this guy is talented. Wedge doesn’t know how Bodhi managed to paint like that in such a short amount of time, but it’s kind of turning him on. “You are _seriously_ fucking talented, you know.”

Bodhi flushes just a bit, wiping his hands on his jeans, which are now even more paint-spattered than before, “I’m decent enough… thanks.”

“Quit the humble shit, you know you’re good,” Wedge snorts, clapping him on the shoulder— Bodhi tilts his head to give Wedge an unamused look, which again, is ruined by the fact that his face is starting to turn red.

“Don’t you have a _class_ to go to?” Bodhi groans softly, sounding like he is suffering from Wedge’s mere _presence_ , and Wedge smirks, squeezing Bodhi’s shoulder before he goes to grab his bag off the floor.

“Alas, parting is such sweet sorrow…” Wedge sighs dramatically, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Probably… I’ll text you,” Bodhi mutters, already distracted as he starts to clean up his work area. He glances up quickly, one side of his mouth quirking into a faint smile. “Thanks, again.”

“My pleasure,” Wedge winks, tossing Bodhi a playful salute before he turns to leave. “Let me know if you want me to show up shirtless, tomorrow.”

Bodhi curses at him, and Wedge laughs as he ducks out of the room, barely avoiding the paint brush Bodhi flings at his head. He continues to smile as he heads to class, biting his lip as he thinks about the way Bodhi's eyes kept lingering on him in a way that Wedge _knew_ was more than professional, and decides that volunteering for this project was the _best_ decision he's made, lately.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Giant metal dongs, the sign of true friendship.
> 
> Thanks so much for all the comments and kudos! <3 I'm surprised anyone else is into this slightly crack pair, but hey, I'm not complaining.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That sounds made up... you just made that up.

 

 

The next day, Bodhi finds himself sitting underneath his favorite Japanese maple once again, using his pastels as he works on yet _another_ drawing of Wedge, who is currently sprawled out on the grass with his hands beneath his head.

“Tilt your head towards me a bit,” Bodhi instructs, and Wedge complies with a smile, arching one eyebrow.

“How many different mediums do you know how to use?” Wedge asks, curious, and Bodhi hums under his breath as he tries to find the right color for Wedge’s eyes— they’re more hazel than brown, he should’ve used colored pencils, he’d have more _options—_

“A lot,” is the answer Bodhi decides on, and Wedge snorts, rolling his eyes— _very_ hazel in this lighting, Bodhi notes, picking up some muted green.

“Cute,” Wedge smirks, turning his eyes back up to gaze at the clouds as Bodhi smirks ever so slightly. It’s a nice day, blue and sunny with big fluffy clouds— Bodhi might do some landscape work when he’s finished with this, he hasn’t done any in a while, not with pastels at least. He tilts his head a bit, using a fingertip to smooth out a wisp of dark hair, then darts his eyes up, suddenly drawn to the taut lines of Wedge’s biceps— why had he worn a tank top today, it was _distracting—_

Wedge suddenly rolls over onto his side, propping his head against his upturned palm as he leans on one elbow, and Bodhi swallows, because _that_ is an interesting position full of all kinds of lean lines— “You wanna go get some coffee or something later? My treat.”

Bodhi quickly flips to another page in his sketchbook, hand moving across the page rapidly as he starts to sketch, “I’m not going on a date with you, Wedge.”

Wedge actually _pouts_ at him, and Bodhi’s eyes widen a fraction, because _that_ is quite an expression— he quickly tries to capture it, biting his lip, as Wedge sighs dramatically, “It doesn’t have to be a _date_ , you know,” he pauses, brow furrowing. “I’d love it if it was, but hey, no pressure.”

Bodhi snorts softly, absently swiping a strand of hair that seems to have slipped from his bun out of his face— Wedge bites his lip, suddenly grinning, and Bodhi knows he must have smeared pastel across his face in the process. _Wonderful._

“You gonna buy if I agree to go?” Bodhi mutters, because despite his better judgement, the more time he spends with Wedge, the more he finds himself _enjoying_ his company— Wedge is sharp, a lot smarter than he lets on, and Bodhi can admit his terrible sense of humor is slightly charming. He would never admit it to anyone else, but it’s true, nonetheless. Jyn is going to make fun of him _forever_ if she finds out.

 _"_ Hell, I'll buy _and_ I’ll put out, if that’s what you’re into,” Wedge offers, giving him an entirely too charming grin, and Bodhi snorts out a soft laugh, biting his lip again as he tries not to grin. He really shouldn’t encourage him, but—

“No thanks to the second part, but I’ll never turn down free waffles,” Bodhi answers, flicking his eyes up from his sketchbook— Wedge’s smile practically radiates smug triumph, and Bodhi rolls his eyes. Yeah, this was a _terrible_ idea, but too late now, unfortunately.

“I should be done with class around seven, what about you?” Wedge grins, pushing himself to sit up— Bodhi sighs, letting his sketchbook flop across his lap as he starts to put his pastels away.

“Eight-ish, probably.” he mutters, snapping his pastel case shut and shoving it in his bag. Wedge leans forward before he can put his sketchbook away, smiling as he turns the page to look at the other drawing, and Bodhi sucks in a sharp breath as Wedge looks at him from beneath his dark lashes, suddenly aware that’s he’s leaning in _far_ too close—

“These are really good.. again, I’m flattered.” Wedge chuckles, and this close, Bodhi can see the rings of green and amber in his eyes— Bodhi’s fingers twitch, wishing he still had his pastels out—

“I’ll… I’ll text you when I get out of class,” Bodhi manages, his mouth feeling a little dry as he leans back and quickly shuts his sketchbook. Wedge eyes Bodhi for a moment, biting down on his lower lip slightly, and then he leans back as well, starting to push himself to his feet with a smile.

“Sounds good to me,” Wedge agrees, still smiling as he scoops his bag up off the grass and sling it over his shoulder— Bodhi absolutely _does not_ eye the way the muscles in his arms and shoulders ripple with the motion, feeling his fingers twitching yet again—

“Uh… yeah, see you, then,” Bodhi mumbles, scrambling to put the rest of his crap away, what the hell is _wrong with him_ today— Wedge smirks, quirking one eyebrow, and gives Bodhi a lazy salute as he starts to walk backwards.

“See you later, gorgeous.”

Bodhi knows he’s blushing as he glares bloody murder at Wedge’s retreating back, but it’s not like he can fucking _control_ it.

 

————

 

Bodhi falls asleep in the back of his byzantine art history class, because it’s the most boring class he’s ever taken in his _life_ — he only wakes up towards the end when his phone buzzes in his pocket, startling him. He slips it out of his pocket, blinking blearing down at the screen as he tries to wake up.

 

 **From: Wedge**  
you outta class yet?

 

Bodhi glances towards the front of the room, where his professor is currently wrapping up whatever boring as sin slideshow he’s presenting— a few rows over, someone is snoring into their textbook.

 

 **To: Wedge**  
Just about… I need coffee  
Fuck byzantine art history

 **From: Wedge**  
can’t be any worse than metallurgical chemistry

 **To: Wedge**  
That sounds made up… you just made that up

 **From: Wedge**  
oh i fuckin *wish*  
hurry up and i’ll buy you coffee, i’m bored

 

Bodhi snorts loudly, unable to help himself, but luckily his professor is dismissing class at that very moment. He shoves his book into his bag and stares down at his phone as he makes his way out of the lecture hall, tapping out a quickly reply.

 

 **To: Wedge**  
I’m out. Where do you want to meet?

 **From: Wedge**  
diner on 10th street?

 

Bodhi sighs as he pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, and vaguely hopes no one he knows will be at the diner tonight.

 

————

 

Wedge is waiting for Bodhi outside the diner, leaning lazily against the brick wall— he’s traded his tank top and jeans for a v-neck and different jeans, and his hair looks slightly damp, so Bodhi assumes he must’ve had shop work tonight.

“I hear those things will kill you, some day,” Wedge greets him with a smirk— Bodhi gives him an unamused look, then stiffens up as Wedge reaches out to pluck the cigarette from his lips so he can take a drag off of it, and that should not— it should _not_ make Bodhi feel warm, what the _hell—_

“I hear life will kill you, some day,” Bodhi manages to respond after a moment, his tone dry, and Wedge laughs, finishing off the cigarette and crushing it out against the brick wall behind him.

“Spoken like a true artist,” Wedge muses, giving him a crooked smile, and Bodhi ducks his head to hide his own smirk, following after Wedge as he pushes away from the wall and heads into the diner.

Luckily for Bodhi, the diner is mostly empty— they grab a booth near the back, and Bodhi sighs as he drops his bag on the seat unceremoniously before sitting down and immediately laying his head on his folded arms. Fuck, he’s _tired._

“Rough day?” Wedge asks, sounding amused as he flips both of the coffee mugs on the table right-side up. Bodhi grunts softly in reply before forcing himself to sit up, grinding the heels of his palms into his eyes roughly.

“Being an artist fucking sucks,” Bodhi mutters, and Wedge makes a sound of agreement as a waitress swings by to fill their mugs with coffee. Wedge proceeds to dump an unhealthy amount of sugar in his, while Bodhi does the same with the cream.

“I can drink to that,” Wedge lifts his mug in a toasting gesture, and Bodhi snorts as he does the same, then proceeds to burn his mouth as he takes a huge gulp of coffee.

“You still buying?” Bodhi asks after taking another burning gulp, because pain aside, god does he need caffeine right now— Wedge smirks as he nods, taking a sip of his own coffee.

“Still putting out, too,” he offers cheerfully, and Bodhi snorts, glad that his mug is hiding the smile tugging at his lips. He shouldn’t be charmed by this asshole, it’s _ridiculous_. Maybe his sanity is finally starting to slip.

The waitress swings by again to grab their orders— Wedge gets himself biscuits and gravy, and Bodhi gets the fried chicken and waffles, because he’s fucking starving and not above abusing Wedge’s generosity. Bodhi reaches into his bag and drags one of his sketchbooks out, plus a few col-erase pencils, because their waitress has some _really_ interesting braids going on, and it’s making his fingers twitch—

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” Wedge observes, smiling a little as he takes a sip of his coffee and watches Bodhi flip open his sketchbook to a blank page. Bodhi grabs the red pencil and tilts over a bit in his seat, sketching quickly, trying to figure out how the hell to pattern those braids correctly as he squints.

“Not really… it’s like an itch,” Bodhi mutters, hoping that’s enough of an explanation, because he doesn’t know how _else_ to explain it. Wedge nods after a moment, his eyes on Bodhi’s hands, watching him work since he doesn’t usually get to see him actually draw.

“I get that, sometimes.. when I see a certain piece of scrap metal. Like it’s calling to me,” Wedge admits, taking a sip of his coffee, and Bodhi smiles a little as he finishes the sketch and starts on another one of a different waitress.

“Do you have any pictures of your work?” Bodhi asks, suddenly curious— he feels bad for not asking before, but he forgets that Wedge is an artist too, albeit with a more… slightly _dangerous_ medium. Wedge looks surprised before he smiles and pulls his phone out of his pocket, flipping through it.

“Yeah, a couple…” he says, and Bodhi leans forward slightly as Wedge turns his phone around, peering at the screen—

Holy _shit._

The first one Wedge shows him has to be about six feet tall— it’s a surprisingly anatomically correct grizzly bear rearing up on its hind legs, polished up so its gleaming bright and silver. Wedge flips to the second one, and it’s a life-sized charging bull pieced together out of found metal objects and scrap. The third one is the smallest, some kind of bird with razor-sharp wings, every single feather cut out of sheet metal and welded perfectly in place. Bodhi feels his mouth drop open slightly, because they’re absolutely _gorgeous_ , and he had no idea Wedge was _this good._

“You… you made all of these _yourself_?” Bodhi asks, staring as Wedge flips through a couple more— another bird, some kind of abstract face, a fucking _scorpion_ , what the hell. Wedge smirks, arching one eyebrow as he pulls his phone away and tucks it back into his pocket.

“For the most part, yeah… had a little help on some of the really big pieces,” Wedge shrugs one shoulder, suddenly rubbing at the back of neck as he averts his eyes, and Bodhi can’t believe it, because Wedge looks almost… _nervous?_ That is something he thought he’d _never_ see.

“You’re insanely talented,” Bodhi says, because it’s true, and he never sugar-coats his feelings when it comes to art. “They’re beautiful.. seriously.”

Wedge looks slightly surprised as he meets Bodhi’s eyes, a slow, pleased grin forming on his face, “Yeah? Pretty high praise from a master artist like yourself…”

Bodhi snorts, turning his eyes back down to his sketchbook— his fingers twitch, and he grabs his blue col-erase pencil, because now he wants to draw Wedge, like he hasn’t been drawing him _enough_ for the past three days—

“Can I come see one of them sometime?” Bodhi asks, tilting his head a bit as he roughs out the shape of Wedge’s face, which he could probably do in his _sleep_ at this point. Wedge blinks, looking surprised again, before he smiles and flicks his gaze down to Bodhi’s sketchbook, watching him draw.

“Sure… the bear and the raven are still here, I let the university auction off the other ones to get funds for the metalworks department.” Wedge admits, and Bodhi finds himself smiling a little, because of _course_ Wedge would do that. He tilts his head, eyes darting up as he starts to sketch in the soft, feathery fall of Wedge’s hair— it rarely fell in the same place, he noticed, seeming to have a mind of it’s own. He softens the strokes of his pencils, trying to get the right _texture—_

Bodhi is so focused that he doesn’t notice the way Wedge’s gaze is drifting from his face to his sketchbook, something warm and appraising in his hazel eyes, as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

 

————

 

“Would you like some _chicken_ with your fucking hot-sauce?”

Bodhi looks up from his plate, arching an eyebrow— Wedge is staring at him in a mix of amusement and possibly _horror_ , an expression which again, makes Bodhi’s fingers twitch. Bodhi pauses, staring Wedge down for a moment, before adding three more deliberate shakes of hot sauce and finally setting the bottle down. Both of Wedge’s eyebrows shoot up in morbid fascination, and Bodhi smirks.

“Can you even _feel_ anything with your tongue anymore?” Wedge snorts, shaking his head as he starts to cut into his biscuits. Bodhi shrugs one shoulder and picks up the syrup, dumping some on his waffles and chicken in addition to the hot sauce, and Wedge drops his fork with a horrified _”Are you fucking kidding me?”_ as he stares again.

“I can feel enough for all the _important_ things,” Bodhi muses, cutting into his chicken and waffles. Wedge smirks slowly as he picks up his fork again, and Bodhi realizes that he _may_ have sounded a little more flirty than he intended to. Shit.

“Important things, huh? And what might those be?” Wedge muses, still smirking, and Bodhi quickly looks down at his plate as he shoves a forkful of chicken and waffle into his mouth.

“Telling you to go fuck yourself?” Bodhi mumbles, hissing slightly as his mouth is set ablaze with deliciously sweet fire. Wedge laughs sharply, like he wasn’t expecting that answer, and Bodhi quickly shoves more food into his mouth to resist the urge to smile in response.

 

————

 

Wedge looks slightly impressed that Bodhi has managed to finish his entire plate of food without breaking a sweat— Bodhi can’t particularly feel his mouth that well at the moment, but it’s the price he’s willing to pay for unmatched flavor.

“You sure your tongue is gonna survive?” Wedge muses, pushing his own plate away as he leans back against the booth. Bodhi rolls his eyes slightly as he takes a large gulp of coffee that is almost all cream at this point, because it helps with the burning in his mouth.

“I’ll live,” he muses dryly, before shoving his plate aside so he can flip his sketchbook open again. Bodhi grabs his green col-erase pencil this time, because of course his fingers are twitching with the urge to draw, it’s not like the urge ever _stops—_

“Let me know if you need mouth-to-mouth, or anything,” Wedge offers with a charming grin, and Bodhi snorts, shaking his head as he bites back his own grin, trying to focus as he sketches out the familiar lines of Wedge’s face again.

“Do any of these lines ever actually _work_ for you?” Bodhi asks, arching one eyebrow— Wedge shrugs before leaning forward with his arms crossed on the table, trying to take a closer look as Bodhi sketches.

“It’s about fifty-fifty, usually,” Wedge smirks, tilting his head to the side— Bodhi’s eyes are drawn to the curve of his neck, following it down, lingering on the sharp line of his collarbone visible from the deep vee of his shirt’s neckline—

Bodhi quickly averts his eyes, feeling a little flustered, and moves to snap his sketchbook shut, “I, um.. I need to get going, I have to finish some watercolors and some other shit for class.”

Wedge looks slightly disappointed, but smiles as he raises his hand to catch the waitresses attention so he can get the check, “Gotta love that art student life…”

Bodhi snorts in agreement as he starts to put his sketchbook and pencils away— Wedge pulls out his wallet when the waitress brings the bill and flips several bills out on the table, waving her off when she asks if he needs change. Bodhi opens his mouth to thank him, but Wedge is suddenly leaning over the table, smirking, and Bodhi freezes, his eyes going a little wide—

“This has been driving me _crazy_ ,” Wedge muses, and Bodhi swallows hard as he feels Wedge’s thumb rubbing over his left cheekbone, calloused and warm— when Wedge draws his hand back, Bodhi can see the hint of green on his skin, from the pastel Bodhi had accidentally smeared across his face earlier and never bothered to clean off. _Oh._

Wedge is still smirking at him, one eyebrow arched playfully, and Bodhi feels his entire body flood with heat as his mouth goes dry, and he suddenly needs to _go_ , “Thank- thank you, for dinner… I’ll, uh, see you tomorrow.”

Bodhi grabs his bag and slides out the booth quickly, practically fleeing from the diner before Wedge can even respond— his heart is pounding just a bit as he gets outside and starts to head towards his apartment, and he doesn’t know _why_ , because all Wedge did was rub some pastel off his cheek, and it’s not like he likes Wedge or anything, because he’s kind of an asshole and he’s only known him for barely a _week—_

Bodhi’s thoughts drift back to the _very_ aesthetically pleasing curve of Wedge’s neck, his crooked smirk, his hazel eyes that always seem to have some kind of mirth shining in them and were _impossible_ to capture properly— he nearly runs into a lamppost, completely distracted, and feels his entire face flush with heat.

 _Fuck_ , this week was never going to end.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, no, Bodhi is starting to feel _charmed_... what do?!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have a serious problem.

When Wedge wakes up for class, the first thing he thinks about is the look on Bodhi’s face last night, when he’d wiped that stupid smear of pastel off his cheek— dark eyes impossibly wide, lips parted slightly in surprise, skin flushed warm under Wedge’s touch.

Wedge stares blearily at his ceiling, one arm flung across his forehead, and realizes that this is suddenly a _huge_ problem.

 

————

 

“So, are you falling in love with your drawing partner too, or is it just me?”

Wedge drops down into the seat across from Luke at university coffee shop, setting his mocha down— Luke looks up from the architectural draft he’s working on and stares at him, completely unamused.

“Wedge, it’s _eight_ in the morning and I haven’t even finished my _coffee_ yet…” Luke sighs, rolling his eyes skyward, as if God can possibly save him. Wedge frowns, leaning forward on the table as he takes a sip of his mocha.

“Seriously. Is it just me?” Wedge asks, and Luke rolls his eyes again, ignoring him as he returns to working on his draft. “You’re not, like.. head over heels for, what’s his name.. Miggs? Higgs?”

“Biggs,” Luke corrects without looking up, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Wedge narrows his eyes slightly, tilting his head to one side, because he _knows_ Luke and knows that look—

“You do like him?” Wedge presses, and Luke sighs again, shifting his eyes to the side, avoiding his gaze as his cheeks start to turn red— “Wait, have you made _out_ with him?”

Luke turns even more red, shifting his eyes away again and trying _very_ hard not to smirk— Wedge feels his mouth drop open in surprise as his eyebrows shoot up, unable to _believe_ this shit— “Oh my god, did you _fuck_ your drawing partner? _Already_?”

Luke glares at him, but doesn’t deny anything, and Wedge flops back against his chair, staring at his best friend with something akin to awe and pride, “Oh, my god.. you _harlot_. He has a _hipster mustache_.”

Luke scoffs and sets his pencil down so he can grab his coffee, “Shut up, god.. who I screw is none of your business.”

Wedge continues to stare at Luke, feeling like a proud father as he smiles, “You’ve grown up so fast. It almost brings a tear to my eye, thinking about my sweet boy going out and having _casual sex_ like the rest of us assholes..”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Wedge,” Luke mutters, face still red as he turns back to his draft— Wedge grins and reaches for his mocha, then lets the grin slip away as he remembers his initial question and the whole point he sat down in the first place.

“I have a serious problem,” Wedge states, and Luke snorts, eyes still on his draft.

“Several, most likely..” Luke mutters, one eyebrow quirking with amusement— Wedge sighs and leans forward again, flicking one finger against Luke’s forehead in retaliation, because he’s not in the mood for his shit.

“No, _seriously_ ,” Wedge insists, biting his lip as he watches Luke work— it’s different from watching Bodhi, more sharp and precise lines, not as warm or loose— he gets distracted as he pictures Bodhi’s hands sketching him at the diner, the way his pencil almost _caresses_ the paper as he works—

“I think I like Bodhi,” Wedge swallows hard, managing to shove the mental image out of his head for the moment. Luke glances up, tilting his head a bit as he studies his friend with his bright eyes.

“Well… yeah, you talk about him an awful lot,” Luke smiles, because Wedge _does_ — Luke hasn’t met Bodhi, but he sounds like a cool guy. Wedge frowns again, looking down at his coffee, brows drawn together, because Luke is right about _that_ , at least, but—

“I, uh.. I _really_ like him,” Wedge admits, which is fucking _crazy_ , because he’s known Bodhi for what, barely even a week, now? But he does, he can’t deny it, can’t dismiss how much he loves spending time with Bodhi, watching him draw, trading subtle and not so subtle jabs with him, how much he wants to know _more_ about him—

Luke’s pencil freezes on his paper, and he looks up slowly, surprised, which Wedge can’t exactly blame him for, “Like.. you wanna have some fun with him then screw off kinda like, or you wanna ask him to be your boyfriend and be a total _sap_ kinda like?”

“… the second one?” Wedge swallows, surprisingly himself with the answer in addition to Luke, who is now the one staring at him with awe in his big blue eyes.

“Oh, my god.. you have a _crush_. An actual, legit crush,” Luke says with complete wonder, letting his pencil drop against the table as he starts to grin. Wedge feels like a fucking idiot, because this is not grade school, and he does not have a _crush_ , he is going to kick Luke’s _ass_ —

“Can I get a triple with extra cream, please?”

Wedge whips his head around so fast his neck twinges— _Bodhi_ is standing at the counter, looking tired as he digs his wallet out of his tight, paint-splattered jeans, and Wedge groans to himself, because how does Bodhi always manage to look so _hot_ , even at ass-o-clock in the morning?

Bodhi’s wearing a black v-neck that looks like it’s been stained by bleach, slightly frayed around the hem, with a charcoal cardigan tied around his waist, and a fucking lightweight red and black _scarf_ is looped lazily around his neck, slightly obscuring Wedge’s view of Bodhi’s _magnificent_ collarbones.

Wedge is ashamed that he is so attracted to such a _hipster_ , and groans softly under his breath. What has his life become?

“Is _that_ Bodhi?” Luke asks, sounding surprised as he peers around Wedge, his own eyes a little wide. Wedge ignores Luke, because he has just realized that Bodhi has his _hair down_ , and he feels his mouth drop open just a bit, because _that_ is something he’s been dying to see. Bodhi reaches up, starting to gather the thick waves into a sloppy bun that he secures with an elastic from around his wrist, and this should _not_ be turning Wedge on, what the _hell_ , brain—

“This is such a serious _fucking_ problem,” Wedge mutters, forcing himself to look away— Luke is still staring, one eyebrow arched, and he nods slowly as he makes a sound of commiseration.

“Yeah, I can agree with that,” Luke smirks, tilting his head a bit as he continues to check Bodhi out, and Wedge kicks him under the table as he glares.

“Hey, I saw him _first_ , asshole. You’ve got your own artist to do whatever with,” Wedge warns, and Luke laughs, finally looking away and shaking his head.

“You sure you don’t wanna trade?” he jokes, picking up his pencil, and Wedge kicks him again— Luke has been spending _way_ too much time around him and Wes, he decides.

“Do you want me to weld the joints of your drafting desk together again? Because that can be _arranged_ ,” Wedge threatens, narrowing his eyes slightly— Luke flinches and gives him a dirty look, shaking his head.

“You are such an asshole, why are we friends…” Luke mutters, and Wedge snorts, because the kid isn’t _wrong_. Wedge looks over his shoulder, watching as Bodhi collects his triple and adjusts his bag on his shoulder, then freezes as Bodhi’s eyes suddenly catch his— Bodhi looks surprised for a second before he smiles a little and gives him a small, slightly awkward little wave.

Wedge recovers enough to shoot Bodhi a grin and a playful salute in return— Bodhi smiles a little more and shakes his head before turning and making his way out of the shop, probably on his way to some boring lecture. When Wedge turns back around, Luke is smirking at him, and Wedge kicks him under the table yet _again_.

“You’re no fucking help at all, you know that?”

Luke smiles brightly in reply and reaches out to steal a sip of Wedge’s mocha, because he’s a little shit like that.

 

————

 

Wedge spends his shop time for the day cutting sheet metal after patterning it out, then hammering it into the shapes he needs, because he feels the urge to hit something.

“I cannot _believe_ you have a crush on some fucking _hipster_ from the arts department,” Wes snickers, watching with great amusement as Wedge hammers away at a sheet of metal. Wedge glares at him through the sweaty fringe of his bangs before wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist and dropping his hammer.

“When did you even _talk_ to Luke?” Wedge grumbles, lifting up the hammered panel with a grunt and carrying it over to the pile of pieces he’s already finished. Wes snorts, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against a table full of tools.

“They have this thing called texting now, I hear,” Wes snarks, and Wedge rolls his eyes, because of course Luke has probably texted everyone by now, which means he is going to have to _kill_ him.

“You should bring him to poker night!” Hobbie pipes up, grinning as he walks by pushing a cart full of half-rusted found objects. Wedge whirls around, pointing at him threateningly, because he _knows_ that tone of voice—

“Oh, no, the last thing I need is you fuckin’ guys _ruining_ this for me,” Wedge warns, shaking his head as he goes to grab another sheet of metal. Hobbie laughs, while Wes smirks and tries very hard to look innocent.

“What? You act like we’re gonna tell him all of your dirty, dark secrets, or something..” Wes muses, and Wedge shakes his head as he grabs a large hammer, because that is _exactly_ what they will do. He loves his friends, but they are all assholes of the highest caliber.

“Shut up and go make some more shiny dicks, Janson.”

Wes salutes Wedge with a mock serious expression, pushing away from the table.

“Aye aye, captain. One giant shiny dick for my _favorite_ giant dick, coming right up.”

 

————

 

After shop, Wedge heads back to his apartment to take a shower, and shoots a text over to Bodhi.

 

 **To: Bodhi Rockin’  
** hey beautiful, i’m done with shop if you wanted to meet up?

 

 **From: Bodhi Rockin’  
** I’m swamped right now, my fucking art history teacher sprung a surprise paper on us.. Sorry

 

Wedge absolutely does not feel a pang of disappointment as he flops down on his bed with a sigh.

 

 **To: Bodhi Rockin’  
** damn, that sucks… good luck?

 

 **From: Bodhi Rockin’**  
Thanks, I’ll be lucky if I don’t die of a caffeine overdose in a few hours…  
Hey, I’m free all day tomorrow… if you want to meet up early, I can probably finish the rest of the assignment  
If you don’t have other plans, I mean

 

 **To: Bodhi Rockin’  
** nope, no plans.. i’m all yours after 2. ;)

 

 **From: Bodhi Rockin’  
** … okay, then. Text me when you’re done with class.

 

Wedge grins, because he can practically _picture_ Bodhi’s reaction being sent a winky face, and rolls over to grab his bag off the floor so he can do his metallurgy homework, despite not really wanting to.

Nearly a full day spending time with Bodhi tomorrow? It’s like Christmas and his birthday all in one package, honestly.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Wedge... love you, my boy.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seriously?

 

 

Saturday morning stretches on far too long, in Wedge’s opinion.

He only has metallurgical chemistry today, and he absolutely can’t sit _still_ , because he would much rather be spending time with Bodhi. He _seriously_ has a problem. It almost scares him a little, honestly, because he’s never had his thoughts so completely consumed like this before.

Wedge taps his foot and jostles his leg impatiently throughout the entire class, and wonders if it’s normal to feel this impatient. Probably not.

 

———— 

 

Wedge practically sprints out of class when it lets out, almost shoving his way through people— he has _important_ places to be, it’s not his fault that people are always _in his way._

He pulls his phone out of his pocket as he jogs down the steps so he can text Bodhi, squinting slightly in the bright sunlight, but to his surprise, there’s already a text waiting for him.

 

 **From: Bodhi Rockin’**  
Hey, do you mind coming to my place? It’ll be easier than hauling my supplies somewhere  
I wanna use a few different mediums and finish everything up

 

 **To: Bodhi Rockin’**  
that’s fine with me, i just got outta class and i’m all yours for the rest of the day  
what’s your address?

 

Wedge grins as Bodhi texts him his address a few minutes later, and cannot _believe_ his luck. It seriously has to be his birthday, or something. He let’s Bodhi know he should be there in about twenty minutes, and shoves his phone into his back pocket before taking off in a light jog across the campus.

It takes Wedge a couple minutes to realize the strange twisting in his gut is because he’s a little _nervous_ , and fuck if _that_ isn’t a feeling he’s had in a long time.

 

————

 

Wedge finds the apartment easily enough— it’s only a few blocks from the diner, above an old bookstore. The staircase is rickety in a slightly terrifying way, but he makes it up without issue, squeezes down a small hallway, and promptly pounds on the thick wooden door.

“Just a second!” comes the muffled reply, and Wedge rocks back on his heels, smiling a little as he listens to someone moving around inside— he isn’t sure if Cassian is home, or it’s just Bodhi. He _hopes_ it’s just Bodhi, honestly.

The door cracks open, and Wege’s gaze is immediately drawn down as a furry orange head pops out, meowing plaintively— Bodhi never mentioned they had a _cat_ , that’s fucking _adorable_ —

“BB, stop it, c’mon…” Bodhi sighs, scooping the cat up as he opens the door wider— Wedge arches one eyebrow, watching with amusement as the big orange tabby cat wriggles around and tries to get away while Bodhi curses. “Damn it… would you get in here so I can put him down?”

Wedge smirks as he ducks inside the apartment, reaching out to scratch the cat behind the ears as Bodhi shuts the door behind him, “You have a cat?”

“ _Cassian_ has a cat, which technically belongs to his friend _Poe_ who is out of town, and the damn thing thinks he owns the apartment…” Bodhi mutters, rolling his eyes. Wedge grins as BB butts against his hand, demanding more attention, and complies, scratching at the scruff of his neck.

“Cute,” he chuckles, shifting his bag on his shoulder as he watches Bodhi turn and deposit the cat on the back of a chair. Wedge glances around quickly, curious— it’s a pretty nice place, nicer than his own, honestly. Neater than he expected, with two guys living in it. He recognizes a few of Cassian’s smaller metal sculptures tucked here and there, and the walls are practically covered with artwork, which Wedge assumes is Bodhi’s. It’s.. cozy.

“How was your class?” Bodhi asks, and Wedge snaps his head around— Bodhi has wandered over to the kitchen, which again, _way_ cleaner than Wedge’s, good _lord_ —

“Boring as sin,” Wedge snorts, dropping his bag near the door before moving towards the kitchen. He takes a moment to eye Bodhi, biting his lip— dark blue v-neck, stained charcoal jeans that have definitely been through a war with several paintings, and god fucking help him, Bodhi’s hair is loose, falling in thick, dark waves that Wedge just wants to sink his fingers into—

“Want something to drink?” Bodhi interrupts Wedge’s thoughts before they get _too_ carried away, and Wedge blinks, glad that Bodhi is busy in the fridge instead of noticing the way Wedge had just been eye-fucking him.

“Sure, whatever’s fine,” Wedge shrugs, watching as Bodhi pulls out two Mexican Cokes and pops the tops off before handing him one. Bodhi sighs as he leans against the kitchen counter, raking one hand back through his hair in a way Wedge finds _extremely_ distracting.

“I need to bust out two more pieces, plus finish some of the previous ones… you okay posing for a couple hours?” Bodhi asks, giving Wedge a slightly tired, but hopeful smile— Wedge salutes him with his bottle of Coke before taking a swig, because he is ready to do whatever the fuck Bodhi _wants_ for the rest of the damn day.

“I’m all yours, beautiful,” Wedge winks, feeling a small surge of satisfaction as Bodhi rolls his eyes and blushes ever so slightly. He didn’t give a _shit_ what anyone said, he was _so_ good at flirting.

“C’mon…” Bodhi shakes his head, hiding a smile as he pushes away from the counter, and Wedge trails after him, suddenly realizing that oh, _shit_ , Bodhi’s taking him to his bedroom—why hadn’t he considered _that_ possibility, he is _not_ prepared—

Bodhi pushes the door to his room open, and Wedge is immediately greeted by the sound of The Shins playing, and a face full of warm sunlight. BB darts between his ankles as he steps inside, and Wedge is surprised, because Bodhi’s room is a _lot_ bigger and more organized than he would have expected, with three windows thrown wide open to the afternoon sunlight. He wonders just how much this place is costing Bodhi and Cassian, because he’s _slightly_ jealous.

Wedge turns a little as Bodhi shuts the door behind him, still looking around curiously— the walls are once again covered with art, and there’s at least three easels of varying height shoved into a corner. The shelves are almost overflowing with art supplies and sketchbooks, and there’s a bed shoved up underneath one of the windows, with red sheets, and Wedge should _not_ find that oddly sexy—

“You can sit on the bed,” Bodhi tells him, like that’s _not_ a big deal or anything, but Wedge obeys after setting his Coke on the nightstand, kicking his boots off so he can fold his legs underneath himself. BB immediately hops up on the bed, pushing into his lap and purring for attention, and Wedge chuckles as he scratches the cat behind the ears again.

“I can kick him out, if you want… he’s just an attention whore,” Bodhi smiles a little as he drags an easel over positioning it where he wants it, and Wedge shakes his head, leaning back on one hand lazily.

“He’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he says, still scratching at the tabby’s ears as he watches Bodhi get set up. “How do you want me?”

Wedge thinks that sounds a _little_ dirtier than usual due to the fact that he’s in Bodhi’s bed, and Bodhi flushes just a bit as he darts his eyes over him, assessing, “Um.. that’s fine, actually, if you’re comfortable.”

Wedge is more than comfortable, and smiles as he turns his attention back to BB, who is now pawing at him for more attention, “I’m good. Draw me like one of your french girls, or whatever.”

Bodhi snorts, looking unamused as he pulls out his pastels, and Wedge shoots him the most charming smile in his arsenal— Bodhi quickly ducks his head, but Wedge notices the blush on his cheeks anyway, and feels very pleased with himself as Bodhi starts to sketch.

 

————

 

Two hours later, Bodhi has finished the pastel drawing of Wedge and BB, which Wedge finds disturbingly adorable. He _really_ has the urge to get a cat, now.

“What next, master artist?” Wedge asks, smirking a bit as he stretches his arms over his head, careful not to disturb BB, who’s currently asleep in his lap. Bodhi glances over at him as he finishes moving the easel back to its corner, and then he tilts his head, eyeing the change in lighting from the windows as he bites his lip.

“Colored pencil, I think,” Bodhi decides, moving towards his desk to grab a sketchbook and a very large, colorful assortment of pencils. Wedge arches one eyebrow curiously, because he hasn’t seen Bodhi work with _those_ yet.

“You want me to change position?” he asks, starting to gently move BB off of his lap— the cat meows a little, but allows himself to be deposited on Bodhi’s pillow, where he immediately goes back to sleep. Bodhi smirks a little, shaking his head at the cat, and then Wedge stiffens up because Bodhi is suddenly climbing onto the _bed_ with him, and he was not _prepared_ for this scenario—

“Scoot back and turn to face the window,” Bodhi instructs, settling himself and his art supplies, and Wedge swallows hard as he obeys, tilting himself towards the warm, late afternoon light. Bodhi eyes him intently as he flips his sketchbook open, tilting his head to one side. “A little more to the right.. tilt your chin down just a bit.. there. Perfect.”

Wedge holds himself in position, watching as Bodhi starts pulling out pencils and begins to sketch almost immediately, his dark eyes flicking from the paper to Wedge, driving him a little crazy with his intense and focused they are, “This the last one?”

“ _Technically_ it’s an extra one since I have enough other sketches, but I’ve been dying to do you in pencils with proper lighting…” Bodhi mutters, tilting his head just a bit. “I’ll probably toss some of the other ones I’m not happy with.”

Wedge bites his lip, because seriously— Bodhi’s been _dying_ to do this? Not helping the whole _‘fuck, I really like this guy’_ problem, at all. Bodhi pauses, eyes darting down to Wedge’s mouth suddenly, staring—

“Could you, um.. keep doing that, for a couple minutes?” Bodhi asks, sounding slightly embarrassed— Wedge has to fight the urge to smirk as he complies, continuing to bite his lip, and Bodhi quickly goes back to sketching, completely focused on his face now, which again? _Not_ helping.

God, this is going to be the longest couple hours of Wedge’s life.

 

————

 

“So… can we still hang out after this, or are you gonna ditch me?”

Bodhi blinks as he looks up from sharpening a pencil with a knife—Wedge arches an eyebrow at him, because he _needs_ to know the answer to this question, so he figures he might as well ask now. Bodhi arches one eyebrow in return, smiling just a little as he returns to sharpening his pencil.

“I figured I was stuck with you no matter what I said…” Bodhi muses, tilting his head as he checks the pencil— Wedge smirks just a bit, shrugging one shoulder.

“I mean, that would _usually_ be the correct answer, but if you seriously want me to, I’ll fuck off,” Wedge offers, even though it _pains_ him to do so— Bodhi looks surprised as he meets his eyes, and then he's laughing a little as he shakes his head.

“You don’t have to fuck off, Wedge…” Bodhi snorts softly, putting his knife aside and starting to work again. “As much as it pains me to admit, this has been pretty… fun. You’re an okay guy.”

Wedge’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, because coming from Bodhi, that is practically _glowing_ praise, and he was not expecting it at _all._  “I have my moments, I suppose.”

Bodhi chuckles a little, tilting his head as he shades something, and Wedge can’t help himself as he eyes the way Bodhi’s hair falls against his face with the motion, curling temptingly against his jaw, his neck— Wedge clenches hisfingers on his knees, because all he wants to do is lean forward and—

“God, your eyes are a _fucking_ pain…” Bodhi mutters suddenly, snapping Wedge out of his terrible, dangerous thoughts— Wedge blinks, drawing in a deep breath, and then laughs a little, because _what_?

“They’re just brown,” Wedge arches one eyebrow, because he doesn’t understand why they’d be a pain— his eyes are pretty _boring_ , in his opinion. Not like Luke’s sky-blue ones, which he admittedly has always been a bit jealous of, or Jyn's bright green ones. 

“ _Hazel_ ,” Bodhi corrects, sounding _completely_ exasperated, and Wedge snorts with amusement.

“Okay, hazel, big deal, they’ve got a little bit of green in them,” he muses, because seriously, _artists_ — Bodhi looks up from his sketchbook, frowning just a bit as he furrows his brow, looking very affronted, all of a sudden.

“Seriously?” Bodhi sounds _maybe_ a little pissed off, which is hot, but before Wedge can respond, Bodhi is leaning forward, cupping his chin in his long, pastel and charcoal stained fingers, and Wedge is pretty sure he has now stopped breathing, because oh _fuck_ , what is Bodhi _doing_ —

“Amber, chestnut, gold, moss green, sepia, umber…” Bodhi rattles off, tilting Wedge’s face towards the light a little more as he leans in, peering into his eyes closely— Wedge swallows hard, because Bodhi is so _close_ , and he’s waxing poetic about the _color of his eyes_ , like they aren’t the most _boring_ thing in the world—

“Do you have any idea how many colors I have to use for them?” Bodhi huffs, still holding on to Wedge’s face as he turns, starting to pull different colored pencils out of his stash. “At least eight, and that’s just in _this_ lighting…”

Bodhi turns around again, brandishing a hand full of pencils like he’s going to smack Wedge in the head with them as he keeps ranting about the color of Wedge’s _stupid eyes_ , and Wedge can’t even _help_ himself anymore, because this is too much, it was too much the second Bodhi _touched_ him, for fuck's sake—

Bodhi drops the pencils in his hand as Wedge suddenly presses forward, kissing Bodhi soft and sweet— the quiet, surprised, and _slightly_ desperate noise he makes in his throat is enough to encourage Wedge, and he kisses Bodhi again, still soft and far more gentle than he’s used to being. Bodhi makes another quiet sound, not quite a whimper, and kisses him back this time, soft and hesitant, stroking his fingertips over the line of Wedge’s jaw _very_ tentatively—

Bodhi breaks away first, falling back on his hands and staring at Wedge with wide eyes, cheeks flushed, breathing a little harder than normal. Wedge stares back, his own breath coming a little faster, and he wants to crawl over Bodhi _so_ badly, wants to kiss him until they both can’t breathe, wants to hear what other soft, sweet little _noises_ he’ll make in the back of his throat—

But Bodhi looks so fucking _shy_ right now that Wedge can’t bring himself to go _that_ far, so he licks his lips instead, eyeing Bodhi intently, deciding to press his luck- “Can I _please_ kiss you again?…”

Bodhi’s lips part in an entirely too tempting manner as he continues to stare, and Wedge wonders if maybe he fucked up, maybe Bodhi hadn’t been sending him subtle signals, maybe he was a fucking _idiot_ —

“Yeah.. yeah, you can…” Bodhi whispers suddenly, sounding a little breathless as he licks his lips— he pushes himself forward a little bit, almost hesitant, and Wedge’s heart kicks in his chest as he leans in to meet him, capturing Bodhi’s lips in another soft, slow kiss as he cups one hand against his jaw, brushing his thumb along the line of his beard—

Bodhi makes another quiet, slightly needy sound of pleasure in the back of his throat, and it takes all of Wedge’s willpower not to just push him flat on his back— he uses his hand to gently tilt Bodhi’s head instead, and _that’s_ the angle he was looking for, right there. He deepens the kiss with a needy sound of his own, because _fuck_ does he need more, he needs to _taste_ Bodhi, and the damn _noise_  Bodhi makes when Wedge darts his tongue against his lower lip is probably going to stick in his brain for _quite_ a damn while.

Bodhi breaks away again before Wedge can deepen the kiss further, sucking in a ragged breath as he tilts his head back— Wedge can’t help himself as he places a kiss on the underside of Bodhi’s jaw, it’s right there _tempting_ him, and that’s when he realizes that Bodhi is trembling a little. Fuck.

“You okay, gorgeous?…” Wedge murmurs, pulling back just a bit— Bodhi swallows hard before tipping his head back down, looking at Wedge from beneath his dark lashes, and Wedge bites his lip, resisting the urge to surge forward and kiss him _again_ , because Bodhi is so fucking gorgeous it’s not even _fair_ , honestly.

“Yeah… yeah, sorry,” Bodhi swallows again, licking his lips, and Wedge can’t really _resist_ this time— he leans in, trying his best to keep the kiss light, and Bodhi hums breathily in the back of his throat as he returns it, grazing his fingertips over the line of Wedge’s jaw in a light caress that almost makes Wedge’s breath catch—

 _Wedge_ has to pull away this time, because clearly Bodhi wants to take this _slow_ , and he’s getting _way_ too worked up over a few admittedly fucking fantastic, but soft and sweet kisses. _Fuck_. This has never happened to him before, and it’s making his head spin _just_ a tiny bit. Bodhi bites his lip, smiling almost shyly, and that, paired with his flushed cheeks and impossibly dark eyes, is enough to make Wedge question _everything_ he’s ever experienced about sex and relationships, because the way he feels right now? Not. _Normal_.

“I, uh.. got some pastel on you..” Bodhi apologizes, smirking just a bit as he reaches out and rubs his thumb over Wedge’s jaw, much like the way Wedge had rubbed it off his cheek the other night at the diner.

“I’m perfectly happy with being your canvas, by all means,” Wedge smirks, tilting his head so he can kiss Bodhi’s wrist— Bodhi snorts softly, grinning a little as he draws his hand away and rubs the pastels off on his jeans carelessly.

“Yeah, I got that impression,” Bodhi muses, leaning back on his hands— he flicks his eyes over to his sketchbook and the half-finished drawing, the pencils scattered all over the bed, but doesn’t move to pick them up. Wedge bites his lip, crossing his arms over his knees as he leans forward, _hoping_ he looks as charming and boyish as he _thinks_ he does as he gazes up at Bodhi from beneath the fringe of his bangs with a slow smile.

“So… this mean I can take you out on a date, now?” he asks, trying for casual and failing miserably, he knows. Bodhi smirks and arches one eyebrow, tilting his head to the side as he considers, and Wedge leans forward a little more, suddenly _very_ tempted as Bodhi’s hair falls aside to reveal the long, lean line of his neck—

“I _suppose_ …” Bodhi agrees with a sigh, _trying_ to sound put out and ever-suffering about it, but Wedge can hear the edge of excitement and nervousness in his voice that he’s trying to hide.

“I’ll be a perfect gentleman, I promise,” Wedge swears, unable to stop the stupidly elated grin from forming on his face, because Bodhi is _actually_ going to go on a fucking date with him, and he has no fucking clue how he managed it, but he isn’t about to _question_ it. Maybe the stars have finally aligned in a way that isn't out to completely fuck Wedge over.

“I’m sure,” Bodhi snorts, shaking his head, and Wedge can’t help it as he pushes himself up so he can plant a hard, quick kiss on Bodhi's stupidly tempting lips— Bodhi looks a little dazed as he pulls away, and Wedge smirks as he leans back on his hands.

“Dinner, tomorrow night?” he suggests, and Bodhi blinks, nodding after a moment before he reaches out to grab his sketchbook and start gathering his pencils. Wedge tilts his head to the side thoughtfully, humming softly to himself. “Wear your hair down again, too… it’s fucking _hot_.”

Bodhi gives Wedge a withering glare as he snatches a pencil up, but the blush on his cheeks _totally_ ruins the effect-- what an _adorable_ little hipster fuck. Wedge _knows_ that he's absolutely screwed, now. 

It's a fantastic feeling, honestly.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [throws confetti in the air] FEELINGS.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I’m here to pick the princess up for the ball?

 

 

Bodhi can count the number of people he’s kissed on one hand— well, _two_ hands, now.

He stares down at his art history textbook, not actually seeing the words as his professor drones on in the background. He brushes his thumb across his lower lip tentatively, mind drifting, remembering the way Wedge had kissed him so softly, so sweet, _nothing_ like he’d been expecting, not from _Wedge_ of all people.

Bodhi bites at his lip and feels the back of his neck getting hot, picturing the look on Wedge’s face, the pure want in his eyes that he couldn’t hide, despite the restraint he’d shown. He’d gone at Bodhi’s pace, not pushing, and Bodhi swallows hard, because that— that makes _something_ kick in his chest, just a bit, and that worries him.

Bodhi decides that he needs to talk to Jyn, because this is way out of his admittedly poor league of experience.

 

————

 

“You’re actually going on a _date_ with Wedge?”

Bodhi glares as Jyn stares at him with absolute shock, her green eyes wide, and clenches his fingers a little too tightly around the sketchbook in his lap as he hisses, “A little _louder_ , Jyn, I don’t think the other half of the quad fucking heard you.”

Jyn blinks, still staring at her friend with utter surprise, before she tilts her head and grins, looking delighted, “You’re going on a _date_? You haven’t been on a real date since we were in high school, this is _amazing_!”

“Jesus _christ_ , Jyn, way to make me feel like a fucking loser…” Bodhi mutters, pressing his lips together as he turns his attention back to the sketch he’s working on. Why did he want to talk to her about this, again?

“Oh, stop it, I’m just happy for you…” Jyn scoffs, leaning over the flick Bodhi in the ear. “He asked you out last night, then? Did he use an awful line that was somehow too cute to resist?”

Bodhi feels himself blushing, because Wedge didn’t even _have_ to use a line after kissing him like _that_ — Jyn stares at him suspiciously, narrowing her eyes, and Bodhi hunches his shoulders up, trying to hide from her scrutiny—

“Did he _kiss_ you?” Jyn hisses quietly, grinning like mad as she leans forward, clearly wanting all the details. “Oh my _god_ , I can’t believe this… was it good?”

Bodhi clenches his jaw as he stares down at his sketchbook, tapping his pencil against the paper— his thoughts drift back to the soft, but _very_ experienced pressure of Wedge’s lips on his own, coaxing soft sounds of pleasure out of his throat so easily—

“It was… yeah. Good,” Bodhi manages, swallows hard against the sudden tight feeling in his throat. _Fuck_ , this was bad. Jyn looks fucking thrilled, of course, and leans back with a pleased grin.

“Oh, this is fucking _fantastic_ … please text me all the details when you get home tonight,” she begs, and Bodhi rolls his eyes, snapping his sketchbook shut so he can shove it into his bag.

“I hate you,” Bodhi mutters, shaking his head. “I have no idea what I’m doing, you know… I’m probably gonna fuck it up.”

“Fuck what up?” Jyn scoffs, arching one eyebrow as she starts to clean up the remnants of her lunch. “Make yourself look cute, and have a good time. _Don’t_ bring your sketchbook, you use it as a distraction too much.”

Bodhi snaps his head up, eyes wide, because he never goes _anywhere_ without a sketchbook, and his hands damn near spasm at the thought of doing it, “But—!”

“No. Sketchbook,” Jyn repeats, her voice firm. “Look, you wanna figure out if you actually like him? Have a face to face conversation for once instead of using art to deflect… trust me.”

Bodhi is damn near panicking at the thought, but Jyn looks at him so damn sincerely, and she would _never_ give him bad advice, not about something like _this_ , so—

“Okay… _okay_. No sketchbook. I promise.”

 

————

 

 **From: Wedge**  
hey beautiful, we still on for dinner?

 

 **To: Wedge**  
Yeah.. yeah, of course.  
What time?

 

 **From: Wedge**  
7 work for you? i have shop until 6:30  
i’ll swing by your apartment and we can figure out where to go from there

 

 **To: Wedge**  
7 works. See you then

 

 **From: Wedge**  
you gonna wear your hair down for me? i promise i’ll be good

 

 **To: Wedge**  
I hope someone welds another dick to your sculpture

 

 **From: Wedge**  
that’s not a *no* so i’ll assume that’s a yes

 

————

 

Bodhi does wear his hair down, but it’s because it looks particularly _nice_ today, not for any other reason. Really.

He changes into his least paint-covered skinny jeans, the ones that Jyn insists make his butt look good, and furrows his brow as he stands in front of his closet. His wardrobe is admittedly a little monotonous, but he’s an _art_ student— half his shit ends up stained and tattered, so what’s the point of having variety? Bodhi sighs a little as he shoves hangars aside, looking for something that at least isn’t completely stained or covered with paint— he ends up settling on a black shirt with a more boat-neck cut to it instead of his usual v-neck, and his favorite deep burgundy cardigan, because he might as well be _comfortable_.

Bodhi turns towards his bed where BB is sitting, watching him curiously as he rolls up the sleeves of his cardigan, and arches an eyebrow at the cat, “Well? Good enough?”

BB meows loudly, and Bodhi smiles a little, going to scratch him behind the ears before grabbing his phone and his wallet— his fingers twitching as he stares at his bag, aching to take it with, but he’d _promised_ Jyn—

_I’ll be fine… I can go one night without it._

Taking a deep breath, Bodhi leaves his sketchbooks behind, and goes to occupy himself with cleaning up the living room while he waits for Wedge.

 

————

 

Someone pounds on the door at seven sharp, and Bodhi supposes he’ll give Wedge points for being _punctual_.

He feels a very sudden rush of nerves as he goes to answer the door, carefully keeping BB at bay with one foot as he cracks it open— Wedge smirks at him, arching one eyebrow, and Bodhi is _not_ oddly charmed as he says, “I’m here to pick the princess up for the ball?”

Bodhi snorts, resisting the urge to smile as he carefully shoves BB back so he can slip through the door, shutting it firmly and locking it after him. When he turns back around, Wedge is raking his gaze over him appreciatively, like he _always_ does, and Bodhi feels the back of his neck heat up.

“You look nice,” Wedge compliments, lifting his eyes— they linger in a _very_ obvious way on Bodhi’s hair, and Bodhi bites his lip as Wedge smirks. “You’ve got gorgeous hair, you know that?”

Bodhi does his absolute best to look unamused as they head down the stairs, but knows it probably not very effective due to the fact that his face is turning red, “I’ve been told… thanks.”

Wedge chuckles as they head outside, holding the door open like a gentleman, “Yeah, I bet… so. What do you feel up for this evening, beautiful?”

Bodhi shrugs as he steps outside into the warm night air, because he has _no_ idea— he was maybe sixteen the last time he’d been on a date, and it had been a disaster. “I’m— I’m up for whatever, honestly. I’m not too picky.”

Wedge smirks a little, arching one eyebrow as they start to walk down the street, “Good to know. Why don’t we just walk and see what happens, then?”

That’s fine with Bodhi, so he nods, falling into step beside Wedge as they wander through downtown— he gives the welder a sideways look, flicking his eyes up and down, trying to be _subtle_ , and bites his lip. He doesn’t think it’s particularly _fair_ that Wedge can manage to look so good in just a pair of snug, worn jeans and a very soft-looking dark gray v-neck. His fingers twitch as he eyes the hard lines of Wedge’s shoulders, his biceps, the stretch of soft cotton across his chest—

When Bodhi darts his eyes up, Wedge is smirking at him— _shit_ , he needs to learn to not _stare_ at people —and he quickly looks away, feeling heat creep up the back of neck. Why did Wedge have to be so distracting and _stupidly_ attractive—

“You’re free to look, you know… I don’t mind,” Wedge sounds amused and maybe a little flattered, and Bodhi looks anywhere but at him, because if he does he’s going to blush like a fucking _idiot_ , because apparently he’s still a _teenager_ —

Bodhi almost trips over himself when Wedge grabs his hand, and looks over at him sharply, because what the _hell_ —

“This okay?” Wedge asks, and Bodhi is surprised, because he sounds— uncertain? Nervous? _That’s_ different, because Wedge usually seems to radiate confidence and annoyingly smug charm. Bodhi glances down at their hands, and bites his lip— Wedge’s fingers are rougher, more calloused and scarred from his choice of medium. Bodhi absently traces the pad of his thumb over a raised burn scar on Wedge’s knuckles, and Wedge’s breath stutters _just_ a little bit—

“It’s fine,” Bodhi consents, aware that he’s blushing as he looks ahead again, but what the hell, why not— Wedge grins and grips his hand more firmly, squeezing it, and Bodhi feels a swell of warmth in his chest that he resolutely tries to ignore as he squeezes back.

 

————

 

They end up at a little Vietnamese place that Bodhi likes, because it’s cute and quaint and not too crowded and the food is _excellent_.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had Vietnamese,” Wedge muses, sounding a little curious as he looks over the small, handwritten menu— Bodhi watches with amusement as one of his eyebrows climb higher and higher, clearly a little overwhelmed.

“It’s good,” Bodhi assures him, smirking a bit as he glances at the menu— oh, good, they still had oxtail, sometimes they ran out early —before lifting his eyes and tilting his head to the side. “Do you want me to order for you?”

Wedge looks a little surprised at the offer but smiles, pushing the menu away, “Sure, why not… surprise me.”

Bodhi smiles a little himself, glancing down at the menu again, his fingers twitching— not because he wants to draw, but because for some reason he wants to reach across the table and grab Wedge’s _hand_ , and that is— that’s not _normal_ , for him—

“You like oxtail?” he asks, shoving his own menu away as he leans back in his seat— Wedge arches one eyebrow comically as he leans forward on his elbows, struggling to keep his face serious—

“Oxen have _tails_?”

Bodhi can’t help himself as he tips his head back and laughs, because Wedge is an _idiot_ , and he is absolutely fucking _charmed_ by it, god help him.

 

————

 

Bodhi orders them both the oxtail pho with shaved brisket, because he hasn’t met a person yet who _doesn’t_ like pho.

“So where are you from? Somewhere more cultured than _my_ neck of the woods, I assume,” Wedge chuckles, taking a curious sip of the iced coffee Bodhi had also for the both of them— he blinks, looking surprised but pleased, and Bodhi hides a smile behind his own glass, because he knew Wedge would like it.

“Jedha… it’s a suburb outside Chicago,” Bodhi answers, shrugging a little. “Nothing too impressive, but it is very diverse, I suppose. You?”

Bodhi has to admit he’s a little curious, because Wedge’s accent is a little off from the typical midwest one he’s used to— Wedge chuckles a little and shrugs one shoulder as he leans back in his seat.

“Corellia, Michigan,” he answers, shaking his head slightly. “Moved to Detroit when I was about fifteen, though.”

Bodhi hums under his breath in acknowledgement— more north, then, that explains it. His fingers twitch as Wedge tilts his head, eyes drawn to the way his hair falls across his forehead— Bodhi wishes he had thought to touch it, the other night on his bed, to see if it was as _soft_ as it looked—

“Got any brothers or sisters?” Wedge interrupts his thoughts, and Bodhi blinks, quickly taking a sip of his coffee and hoping Wedge doesn’t notice the flush on his cheeks.

“Younger sister… Satiya,” Bodhi offers, smiling a little— she’d texted him last night, complaining endless about mom _refusing_ to let her go traipsing around Europe with her friends. He misses her. “You?”

Something dark flashes quickly across Wedge’s eyes, but it’s gone before Bodhi can figure out what the hell it means, and Wedge is smiling easily as he answers, “Older sister, Syal… she lives in California, now, so we don’t talk much unfortunately.”

Bodhi tilts his head, noticing how Wedge’s eyes have gone a little tight around the corners, despite his smile— there’s a story there, but he won’t push if Wedge doesn’t want to talk about it. He bites his lip, starting to inch his hand across the table, towards Wedge’s own hand, but the waiter chooses that moment to arrive with their food and he draws back quickly.

“Holy crap, what the hell _is_ all this stuff?” Wedge’s eyes have gone a little wide as he stares at the wide array of garnishes and condiments being set on the table. Bodhi smirks, inhaling the scent the steaming bowl of pho set in front of him, and feels his stomach growl with anticipation.

“You kind of make it your own… just add whatever you want,” Bodhi explains, already reaching for some thai basil and cilantro— Wedge watches him curiously, starting to mimic him as Bodhi adds some bean sprouts, green onions, chili peppers, some lime— he notably skips the _huge_ glob of spicy red pepper paste that Bodhi adds to his, and Bodhi smirks.

“Now, just kind of mix it up and go for it,” Bodhi chuckles, because Wedge still looks a _little_ lost, and it’s kind of adorable— he picks up his chopsticks and gives his pho a good stir, his mouth already watering, because he’s _starving_.

Bodhi forgets that he’s on a date and that he should _probably_ be using better table manners as he slurps and sucks steaming hot noodles up into his mouth, but Wedge doesn’t seem to mind— he’s doing the same thing, in fact, and Bodhi watches with amusement as Wedge hisses and tips his head back, squinting at the ceiling as he lets out a sharp breath.

“Oh, _shit_ , that’s hot, but it’s _really_ fucking good,” Wedge hisses, sucking in another breath— Bodhi laughs a little, doing the same because _his_ mouth is on fire too, but damn does it taste delicious.

Wedge seems to thoroughly enjoy the pho, despite complaining about how spicy it is, and Bodhi can’t help but feel pleased— maybe he wasn’t so bad at this dating thing after all. After dinner, Wedge is very curious about dessert, which further reinforces Bodhi’s suspicion that Wedge has an extreme sweet tooth— he remembers how much _sugar_ Wedge tends to dump in his damn coffee.

“You know, I _was_ planning to woo you tonight, but you kind of took the reigns, here,” Wedge muses, arching one eyebrow as he knocks Bodhi’s spoon out of the way to scoop up some more coconut ice cream and fried banana. “Introducing me to new culture, ordering me food, splitting _dessert_ with me… seriously, I’m _so_ woo’d right now.”

Bodhi rolls his eyes despite the flush that rises to the back of his neck, and kicks Wedge underneath the table as he shoves a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, “You are the _worst_ , I swear to god, Wedge.”

Wedge kicks him back with a grin and leans his chin on one hand, one eyebrow arched as he taps his spoon against the table contemplatively, “And yet here you are, _indulging_ me.”

“I’m considering it my monthly donation to charity,” Bodhi mutters, smirking as Wedge tips his head back and laughs like that’s funniest thing he’s ever heard— Bodhi eyes the lean line of his neck, the shadow of stubble across his jaw, the playful glint in his _stupidly_ complex eyes—

His fingers twitch, but it’s not because Bodhi wants to sketch— he wants to _touch_.

 

————

 

After dinner— which Wedge _insists_ on paying for, despite Bodhi’s protests—they end up wandering around downtown some more— Bodhi’s fine with that, because it’s still balmy enough outside, and Wedge grabs his hand and winds their fingers together again.

“I didn’t think you ever left home without a bag full of art supplies, I’m a little surprised,” Wedge comments, smiling teasingly as he looks over at Bodhi— Bodhi’s fingers twitch as he looks down at the sidewalk, biting his lip, because it’s not like Wedge is _wrong_ —

“I don’t,” he admits, tilting his head back up as he starts to dig his pack of cigarettes out of his back pocket with his free hand, because he needs a damn smoke, now. “This is— this is the first time I’ve gone somewhere without a sketchbook in years, probably.”

Wedge looks _very_ surprised, and Bodhi can’t blame him. “Really? Well… color me flattered, once again.”

Bodhi snorts softly, using his teeth to pull a cigarette from the pack— Wedge’s eyes follow the motion with an almost _jealous_ look —before he shoves it back into his pocket and flips his lighter out. “I think I’ve colored you _enough_ times…”

Wedge smirks, watching as Bodhi lights his cigarette and inhales deeply— Bodhi immediately feels more calm, the twitching that had started in his fingers when Wedge had mentioned his sketchbooks starting to subside. This is… this is fine. He’s been having _fun_ , god help him, and Wedge has been charming and dumb and strangely _nervous_ at times, almost like he’s actually worried about _impressing_ Bodhi, or something, which is stupid, because Bodhi already _likes_ him—

Bodhi almost stops short, his eyes widening— oh, _shit_. He really _does_ like Wedge. His terrible flirting, his smartass comments, his _stupidly_ symmetrical face with its crooked smirk, his surprisingly soft, gentle kisses— _fuck_.

“So… what now? I gotta get you home before you turn into a pumpkin?” Wedge interrupts his thoughts, and Bodhi blinks, feeling his face heat up— he takes a quick drag off his cigarette, thinking, and decides this might be a _bad_ idea, but—

“You wanna come over so I can draw you?” he asks quickly, finishing his cigarette and pausing so he can ash it out on the bottom of his boot— Wedge arches one eyebrow in surprise, smirking ever so slightly.

“I thought you’d be sick of drawing my face by now,” he muses, and Bodhi snorts softly, because he isn’t, and that— _that_ is the troubling part, honestly.

“It’s a nice face,” Bodhi admits under his breath, tugging on Wedge’s hand as he turns them towards the direction of his apartment— Wedge sucks in a soft breath of surprise, his eyes going wide, and Bodhi smiles to himself, because _that’s_ an expression he’d love to draw.

 

————

 

Cassian isn’t home yet— Bodhi assumes he knows about the date and is giving him _‘private happy alone time’_ , as Cass likes to call it. Cassian’s a bit of a jerk, sometimes, but Bodhi still loves him.

Wedge makes himself right at home on Bodhi’s bed like last time, as Bodhi fucks around with some lights and tries to decide what medium he wants to use— his heart is pounding a little bit, which is odd, he’s just going to be _sketching_ , he’s _not_ thinking about what happened last time he was sketching Wedge on his bed, he’s _not_ —

“How do you want me?” Wedge asks in a low tone, and Bodhi darts his eyes over to him— he’s leaning back on his hands, legs stretched out lazily from the foot of the bed, and Bodhi bites his lip, because Wedge’s shirt has ridden up _just_ enough for him to catch a glimpse of pale skin and dark hair—

“Um… that’s.. that’s fine,” Bodhi manages, his mouth suddenly feeling a little dry— he turns and snatches his charcoal off the desk, plus a sketchbook, before kicking his desk chair over so he can sit in front of Wedge. He flips the sketchbook open to a fresh page, wondering why the hell his hand is so _shaky_ as he starts to sketch, eyes flicking from the paper to Wedge, blocking in the lean lines of his body and smearing charcoal far more than he usually does in his haste—

“You _sure_ drawing’s what you wanna be doing right now?” Wedge asks, voice still low— Bodhi flicks his gaze up to Wedge’s face, and his hand stills against the paper, because Wedge is _looking_ at him so intensely, his eyes dark, and there’s a smirk tugging at the corner of his fucking _distracting_ mouth— the charcoal in Bodhi’s fingers snaps in half before he even realizes he’s clenching it, but he doesn’t _care_ —

Bodhi drops the sketchbook and charcoal as he leans forward, licking his lips— he hesitates, though, because _fuck_ , he doesn’t— he’s not entirely sure what to do or what he even _wants_ , actually that’s a lie, because he wants Wedge to _kiss_ him again, wants to feel the soft, coaxing pressure of his lips—

“C’mere… don’t be shy,” Wedge murmurs, reaching out— Bodhi notices that Wedge’s breathing has sped up, his dark eyes constantly flicking to Bodhi’s lips, and that sends a little thrill through him, because Wedge _wants_ to kiss him just as badly—

Bodhi pushes himself out of his chair with a shaky breath, and Wedge gently grabs his hip, pulling him— Bodhi’s surprised by how easily he fits in Wedge’s lap, straddling his thighs, and he hesitantly slides his hands over his shoulders, feeling the the muscles that have been tempting him from day fucking _one_. Wedge’s breathing speeds up a little more, his grip tightening on Bodhi’s hip as he tilts his head up, looking up at Bodhi from underneath his dark lashes, waiting—

Bodhi drops his head, brushing his lips against Wedge’s softly, a little hesitantly, because he still doesn’t have a lot of experience with this and it’s _embarrassing_ — Wedge makes a soft sound in his throat, pressing up a little more firmly and lifting his other hand to grasp Bodhi’s chin, angling it just right, and that is _so_ much better. It’s soft and sweet and _perfect_ , and Wedge knows just when to break away and just how to tilt his head when he kisses him again, lips so coaxing and warm—

Bodhi curls his fingers into Wedge’s shoulders, digging into taut muscle, and can’t help himself as he makes a slightly embarrassing noise in the back of his throat, because fuck, this is so _good_ — and then Wedge parts his lips slightly, gliding his tongue over Bodhi’s lower lip, and _that_ is even _better_. Bodhi follows his lead, slowly parting his lips as Wedge coaxes them open, and he knows he’s shaking a little but he doesn’t want to _stop_ , not when the kiss is suddenly turning from soft and sweet to hot and _wet_ —

Bodhi has to break away, sucking in a ragged breath as he tilts his head back, because his head is fucking spinning and he feels _dizzy_ — Wedge takes the opportunity to press his lips against Bodhi’s throat, kissing and mouthing gently at the underside of his jaw, sliding his lips over the scruff of his beard. Bodhi groans softly in his throat, because _that_ feels fucking amazing too, and he lifts one hand so he can tangle his fingers in Wedge’s hair, finally feeling how _soft_ it is, just like he imagined it—

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Wedge breathes against his skin, sounding almost awed as he nuzzles at the spot just below Bodhi’s ear that makes him want to squirm. “It’s been fucking _torture_ having you stare at me the way you do every single day, it’s not fair…”

Bodhi feels his cheeks heat up and bites at his lip, because he figured Wedge at least wanted to _sleep_ with him, but— did he really think he was _beautiful_? No one’s ever said _that_ to him before, even when trying to get into his pants— Bodhi loses his train of thought as Wedge’s hands suddenly sink into his hair, twisting it around his fingers, and the fucking groan that rumbles out of Wedge’s chest just from touching his hair,  makes Bodhi shiver.

“How are you even fucking real,” Wedge murmurs, voice so low and deep, and then he’s pulling Bodhi’s head back down so he can kiss him again, his mouth hot and wet and coaxing, just enough to make Bodhi moan with pleasure but not overwhelm him completely. He kisses back maybe a _little_ too desperately, whimpering in the back of his throat, because it’s so good, almost _too_ good—

Bodhi forces himself to break away again, because it’s too fast, it’s too _much_ — fuck, he’s trembling again, just like _last_ time. Bodhi ducks his head, pressing his face against Wedge’s shoulder as he tries to breathe and calm down, because he can’t— he doesn’t want to do this too _fast_ , not when he thinks he might actually _like_ Wedge. Fuck.

“Hey… you okay, beautiful?” Wedge asks, nosing into Bodhi’s hair as he shifts his grip, hugging Bodhi tightly around the waist instead. He’s breathing hard, Bodhi notices, his muscle tight with what he assumes is restraint, because Wedge doesn’t seem like the type of guy who usually goes _slow_ with this kind of stuff—

“Yeah… yeah, sorry,” Bodhi sighs after a moment, licking his lips as he lifts his head— Wedge looks like he wants to kiss him again, but he doesn’t, keeping his dark eyes on Bodhi’s face instead as he smiles a little.

“So… does this mean you want to…?” Wedge trails off, reaching up with one hand so he can push Bodhi’s hair out of his face— he’s _trying_ to sound casual, but Bodhi can hear the underlying anxiety and edge of hope in his voice. It makes him smile.

“Yeah… yeah, I want to,” Bodhi agrees, because even though he has no idea what he’s doing, he wants to _try_ — Wedge makes him feel _something_ , he doesn’t know what, but he wants to figure out what the hell it is. “I want to, uh… take it slow, though. If that’s okay.”

Wedge’s face practically _lights_ _up_ with a mix of triumph and surprise as he grins, “I can do slow. I’ll do whatever you _want_ , Bodhi.”

Bodhi snorts a bit, because he doesn’t doubt _that_ — he smiles as he leans in, pressing a small kiss to bridge of Wedge’s nose, which he’s been wanting to do since he started drawing his stupid face, honestly. “I don’t really date, so…sorry if I’m shit at it.”

“You’re doing pretty good so far,” Wedge muses, grabbing Bodhi’s chin so he can pull him in for quick, soft kiss. “So does this mean I can tell everyone I have a super hot, talented boyfriend now?”

Bodhi rolls his eyes as he tips his head back, failing to fight back the grin on his face as Wedge takes advantage and starts to kiss at his neck with a _very_ happy sound. “You’re an idiot, you know that, right?”

“An idiot with a super hot, talented boyfriend,” Wedge corrects, smirking against Bodhi’s skin as he kisses the underside of his jaw teasingly.

Bodhi bites his lip and feels his face flush as Wedge angles his head back down for a kiss, but he supposes he can’t really argue with _that_.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God I hate boys with all their feelings and _kissing_ , who gave them the right...


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slow, remember?

 

When Wedge wakes up the next day, he stares at the ceiling for a few minutes, replaying last night’s events in his head, like he always tends to do— walking downtown, holding Bodhi’s hand, having fun at dinner, Bodhi in his lap, Bodhi _kissing_ him, Bodhi shyly admitting he wants to go _out_ with him—

Wedge grins slowly, feeling a warm fluttering sensation in his chest as he throws an arm over his eyes. _Fuck_.

He grabs his phone off his nightstand, unable to help himself as he clicks his camera open— wow, his bedhead looks great this morning, fucking _perfect_ —

 

 **To: Bodhi Rockin’**  
<image attachment>  
mornin, beautiful ;)

 

 **From: Bodhi Rockin’**  
Oh my god  
Uh  
Good morning?

 

Wedge can almost perfectly picture Bodhi’s flushed face, and laughs as he rolls out of bed and goes to start up the shower.

 

————

 

[Bodhi is very flushed in the face as he stares at the picture Wedge sent him— hair sleep tousled, unshaven, smirking into the camera, with his _very aesthetically pleasing_ collarbones visible over the line of his tangled sheets—

He makes a strangled sound in his throat and shoves his face into his pillow with utter defeat, because _this_ is what he signed up for, apparently.]

 

————

 

Wedge has shop for most of the day, which is fine with him— he seems to have an endless amount of energy today that he needs to channel into something. He makes pretty decent progress on his sculpture, much to his teacher’s slight horror, because this thing is gonna be _huge_.

“How’d your hot date go?” Wes asks, smirking as he hauls a cart full of found objects over towards his work area. Wedge grins as he flips his mask up and yanks on a piece of metal, testing the join.

“Good,” he says, grinning a little more as he inspects his work, because he can’t stop thinking about Bodhi in his lap last night— Wes arches an eyebrow as he leans against his cart, watching his friend.

“Just good?” Wes presses, tilting his head to the side curiously. “You score, or nah?”

Wedge’s eyes go very sharp as he snaps them to Wes, the grin fading off his face, his tone going hard, “It’s _not_ like that.”

Wes looks slightly surprised, because Wedge hasn’t used that tone with him since he fucked up and almost dropped a piece of heavy sheet metal on someone’s unprotected foot. Wes _hates_ that tone. “Hey, man, sorry… didn’t mean it like that.”

Wedge eyes Wes for a moment before turning his attention back to his work— he was _not_ going to let Bodhi turn into fucking shop talk, not when he _liked_ him this much. “It’s… serious, this time.”

Wes’ eyes widen, and nearby, Hobbie drops a tool and pops his head up over the edge of his own sculpture, his own eyes wide. “It’s _serious_?”

Wedge rolls his eyes and proceeds to flip his mask back down so his friends can’t see the faint blush rising on his face. “Everyone shut the fuck up and get back to work.”

 

————

 

Everyone does shut up, for the most part— Wedge can still hear some whispering when he takes breaks, but whatever, his friends are all stupid gossips, he’s used to that. He’s made some more progress on his sculpture, and he eyes it with satisfaction as he takes his mask off and unzips his coveralls, shrugging them off and tying them around his waist so he can cool off for a bit. Some of the joins might need some reinforcing, he can see one starting to bend a little as he walks around it, _shit_ , that was some sloppy work, what the hell—

Someone whistles out a sharp cat-call, suddenly, and Wedge snaps his head around, wondering what the hell his friends are up to _now_ — oh, _shit_.

 _Bodhi_ is wandering through the shop, looking around very curiously, and he’s wearing a god damn black tank top today, with a cardigan tied lazily around his waist-- his fucking hair is half-down, and like _that_ isn’t bad enough, there’s paint streaked all over his tawny skin, _taunting_ Wedge as his eyes follow it all the way up to the lean, exposed lines of his biceps and shoulders. _Fuck_. What is he _doing_ here looking like that? What is he doing here _period_?

“Who is _that_ piece of fine hipster ass?” Hobbie whistles lowly, leaning over the top of his sculpture as he shoves his mask up out of his face. Wes and Zev are in similar positions, eyeing Bodhi with _great_ interest, and Wedge realizes half the shop has stopped working to stare at his brand new boyfriend like he’s a fucking steak. _Wonderful_.

Wes notices the look on Wedge’s face first, and his eyes widen before he grins wildly, like he’s toddler and it’s Christmas morning, “Is _that_ Bodhi?”

“ _That’s_ the guy you’re always going on about? Holy shit, Antilles…” Zev whistles as well, biting his lip as he tilts his head to one side— Wedge grabs one of his welding gloves and flings it as his friend’s face, glaring.

“Shut the _fuck_ up, would you? Yes, that’s Bodhi,” he hisses, turning to glare at Wes and Hobbie as well, and then he freezes like a deer in the headlights, because Bodhi has finally noticed Wedge and is smiling as he makes his way towards him. Shit.

“Hey,” Bodhi greets, still smiling, though it looks a little unsure. “I, uh… you weren’t answering your phone, so I… thought I’d swing by— sorry, if you’re busy, I can go—“

“Totally not busy,” Wedge interrupts, his heart actually fucking _fluttering_ a little, god help him, because Bodhi had seriously come to just to _see_ him— he grins, and then notices the way Bodhi is staring at him, his eyes flicking up and down Wedge’s body quickly as a flush rises to his face. Wedge smirks a little, realizing he’s probably a sweaty mess, and that Bodhi seems to _like_ it. Well, then.

“I just wanted to see if you were up for getting dinner again,” Bodhi is still a little flushed as he tears his eyes away from Wedge, focusing on his sculpture instead— he tilts his head to the side curiously. “This your new project?”

“Yes on both accounts,” Wedge grins, reaching out to snag Bodhi by the wrist and drag him in close— Bodhi doesn’t protest as Wedge leans in to give him a soft kiss, curling his fingers around the coveralls knotted up at Wedge’s waist to steady himself. Someone whistles again nearby, and Wedge flips the bird in Wes’ general direction. _Asshole_.

“When are you gonna be done?” Bodhi asks when their lips part, blushing a little more as he slants a look over his shoulder, trying to pinpoint where the whistling keeps coming from. Wedge makes a thoughtful sound as he lifts one hand and tries to rub a smudge of paint off of Bodhi’s cheek.

“Another hour or so, probably. I’ll text you, promise,” he says, smiling as Bodhi’s bats his hand away with a slightly annoyed look.

“I, uh— I’ll let you get back to work, then—“ Bodhi starts, but Wes clears his throat loudly as he interrupts.

“What, you aren’t gonna _introduce_ us, cap? I’m hurt,” Wes smirks, arching one eyebrow. Wedge slants him a glare, because this is the _last_ thing he wants to deal with after finally getting Bodhi to go out with him—

“ _You_ must be Janson,” Bodhi turns towards Wes, arching one eyebrow. “The dick connoisseur, or so I hear. Cass has told me _all_ about you…”

Bodhi smirks, and Wedge is slightly surprised as Wes lets out a sharp crack of laughter, “That’s me, sweetheart. My reputation proceeds me, once again, I see.”

“Call me sweetheart again, see what happens,” Bodhi smiles sharply, crossing his arms over his chest— Wes laughs again, leaning against his cart of supplies with a grin.

“Tempting,” he says, tilting his head with a smirk. “I like this one, Wedgie. Maybe he can keep your ass in line.”

“Maybe he can keep yours in line,” Wedge smirks, feeling far less nervous, and _slightly_ aroused as he watches Bodhi handle Wes and his shit with surprising ease. This shouldn’t be attractive. Why is this attractive?

“I’ve already got _one_ charity case to take care of, thanks,” Bodhi snorts, tone dry— Hobbie and Zev both cackle while Wes snorts and starts to push his cart towards his workspace with a grin.

“You play poker, Bodhi?” Wes asks, and Wedge feels a slight surge of panic again, because talking shit in shop is one thing, but poker night with these assholes is _another,_ especially with the amount of alcohol that tends to be involved—

“On occasion,” Bodhi answers, and there’s a gleam of _something_ in his eyes for a moment, something very _arousing_ , god damn— Wes grins sharply, pointing at Bodhi with a piece of scrap metal that he yanks from the cart.

“Wednesday night, eight sharp. Wear cute underwear so I have something nice to look at, when I win the pants off you,” Wes smirks, arching one eyebrow— Wedge bristles a little, opening his mouth to tell Wes where he can _shove_ _it_ , but Bodhi answers him first—

“Promises, promises,” Bodhi drawls, tilting his head to one side. “Eight sharp it is.”

Wedge stares at Bodhi with a slight sense of dread building in his gut as his friends cackle with delight— oh, fuck, this is _not_ exactly how he pictured this week going. At _all_. Bodhi turns back to him again, and Wedge is caught a little off guard as Bodhi presses a quick kiss to his lips, back to smiling just a little shyly, like he _hadn’t_ just traded shit with Wes and agreed to jump into a den of wolves.

“Have fun with your project… text me later,” Bodhi murmurs, and Wedge barely has time to press in for another kiss before Bodhi’s moving away and leaving, casually flipping the bird over his shoulder as someone whistles at him again.

“ _Man_ ,” Hobbie says, leaning over his sculpture so he can watch Bodhi go. “Maybe I should start hanging around the arts department, more.”

Wedge snatches one of his gloves up and hurls it at Hobbie’s face with a glare. _Assholes_.

 

————

 

“You know you don’t have to go to poker night, right?”

Bodhi glances up from his waffles, one eyebrow arched— Wedge shoves some of his hash browns around on his plate, desperately hoping Bodhi might just forget the whole thing, but he’s never been that lucky. He should know better, really.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Bodhi smirks ever so slightly— that _look_ flashes across his eyes again, and Wedge squints a little as he leans forward.

“Wait— how often do you play poker?” he asks, because there is _something_ about the look on Bodhi’s face that tells him the answer is more than ‘occasionally’.

Bodhi reaches out to steal a slice of bacon off of Wedge’s plate, shrugging one shoulder as he shoves it into his mouth, “Oh, every now and then.”

Bodhi is _so_ full of shit. Wedge wonders if maybe this isn’t going to be as huge of a disaster as he thinks it might be. He's _curious_ , now, even.

 

————

 

They end up at Bodhi’s apartment again after dinner, which is fine with Wedge— he cracks open his metallurgical chemistry book as he lounges on Bodhi’s bed, scratching BB behind the ears as the cat purrsin his lap. Bodhi’s sprawled out in his desk chair, legs kicked up across the bed as he works in his sketchbook with some charcoal, humming softly under his breath as Stars plays in the background.

Wedge glances up from the painfully boring text and smiles a little as he watches Bodhi work for a minute, his eyes following the way his hands move across the paper, the way he tilts his head back and forth, chewing on his lower lip as he concentrates—

Wedge lets his eyes drift back down to his book as BB purrs and pushes into his hand, begging for more attention— he can’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed, honestly. It’s… _nice_.

He could get used to this.

 

————

 

He could also get used to feeling of Bodhi in his lap, because _this_ is nice, too.

Wedge is fairly sure he’s getting charcoal smeared across his skin as Bodhi holds his face in his hands, but he doesn’t particularly _care_ , because Bodhi’s kissing him slow and sweet, with far less shyness this time. Wedge curls his fingers in Bodhi’s soft hair as he cradles the back of his head in one hand, making a soft sound of pleasure as he parts his lips a bit, trying to encourage him without pushing—

Bodhi takes the encouragement, and Wedge groans as his tongue darts into his mouth, just a little shy— he tightens his grip on Bodhi’s hip, pulling him closer as he deepens the kiss, wanting more, he can't get _enough_ of him, honestly. Bodhi whimpers softly, shifting his weight, and Wedge lets himself fall back against the pillows, dragging Bodhi with him, sliding his hands over his back— yes, _fuck yes_ , this is good, this is _so_ good—

Bodhi moans into Wedge’s mouth before breaking away, panting as he braces his arms on either side of Wedge’s head— his face is flushed, his eyes half-lidded, and Wedge groans, pushing up to kiss him again, biting gently at his lower lip, which earns the _loveliest_ sound from Bodhi’s throat—

“ _Slow_ , remember?” Bodhi pants, pushing himself away a bit as a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth— Wedge groans and lets his head fall back against the pillows, trying to calm himself down a little as he closes his eyes.

“Hey, _you_ pushed _me_ down, beautiful,” he mutters, grinning a bit as Bodhi snorts softly in response— Bodhi shifts again, climbing off Wedge’s hips, much to his disappointment, and stretches himself out against Wedge’s side instead. Wedge slips one arm around Bodhi’s shoulders, and _okay_ , the way Bodhi tucks his face against Wedge’s neck is pretty damn nice too, he has to admit.

“You gotta go soon?” Bodhi mumbles, and Wedge tilts his head towards the clock on Bodhi’s nightstand— he probably should’ve left half an hour ago, honestly, he has an early class.

“Afraid so,” Wedge sighs, absently twisting a lock of Bodhi’s hair between his fingers. Bodhi hums under his breath, sounding slightly disappointed, and Wedge smiles, because the feeling of someone _wanting_ him to stick around? It’s nice.

“Lunch tomorrow?” Bodhi asks, absently tracing a finger over small, slightly singed hole on the neckline of Wedge’s shirt— Wedge grins and tilts his head to press a kiss against Bodhi’s hair.

“It’s a date.”

 

————

 

Wedge stares at the ceiling for a long time when he gets home, smiling to himself in the dark— he eventually falls asleep with Hellogoodbye playing in the background, wondering if this might be the chance he’s been desperately looking for since he was fifteen and left all alone, trying in vain to fill that empty little space in his heart.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOYS. [has a lot of feelings]


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're on, sweetheart.
> 
> Warning for recreational drug use this chapter!

 

 

Bodhi isn’t entirely sure why Wedge is so concerned about him coming to poker night— it’s not like Bodhi hasn’t spent his entire life dealing with jackasses, Wedge _included_. He can handle himself around a bunch of immature welding jockeys who think dicks are the pinnacle of humor. 

Honestly, Bodhi’s _very_ much looking forward to the look on all of their faces when he wipes the fucking floor with them— especially the look on _Janson’s_ face.

It’s going to be a _lovely_ time.

 

————

 

When Wedge shows up at his apartment to pick him up, Bodhi’s slightly surprised they actually make it out the door— Wedge takes one look at the snug waistcoat Bodhi’s wearing over his casual, well-worn button-up, makes a distressed sound, and pushes him right up against the wall with a deep, slightly desperate kiss that makes Bodhi whimper just a little, because Wedge is _very_ good at kissing.

“ _Why_ are you wearing that?” Wedge groans when their lips part, hands sliding over the trim line of Bodhi’s waist in a way that makes Bodhi shiver. “It’s just poker night, you know…”

Bodhi tilts his head back as Wedge kisses at his neck, making a soft sound of pleasure as his face heats up, wondering if _maybe_ they should just stay in— also, how does Wedge always manage to _smell_ so good? “I just borrowed something from Cass, it’s laundry day for me.”

Wedge snorts softly as he rubs his cheek against Bodhi’s beard, arching one eyebrow as a smirk tugs at his lips. “I’m suddenly a big fan of laundry day.”

Bodhi snorts, grinning just a bit as he presses a kiss against Wedge’s cheek and gently pushes him away, “I can see that.”

Wedge backs up reluctantly, sighing like it’s the hardest thing he’s _ever_ had to do, and shakes his head with a wounded look. “You torture me, you know. Every day. It _hurts_.”

“And yet you keep coming back for more,” Bodhi muses, smirking a little as he grabs his bag off the floor— there’s a bottle of whiskey tucked inside with his sketchbook, because he knows better than to show up to a game night empty handed. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Bodhi smirks a little as he obediently retreats out the door, giving Bodhi a look over his shoulder. “You calling me a masochist, beautiful?”

“I mean, you basically play with fire and sharp metal for a living, I’ve _seen_ the scars…”

Wedge laughs as Bodhi locks the door, and Bodhi smirks as he allows himself to be pulled around for another kiss, something he is rapidly growing used to— _totally_ a masochist, in Bodhi’s opinion.

 

————

 

Poker night is apparently held at Janson’s apartment, on the other side of town— Bodhi doesn’t mind the walk since it’s still balmy out, and Wedge holds his hand the whole way there. Bodhi likes tracing his fingertips over the scars and callouses on Wedge’s fingers, but he’ll never _admit_ that to anyone.

“The guys can get a little… rowdy, after a few rounds,” Wedge warns when they near Janson’s apartment— Bodhi arches an eyebrow as he follows Wedge up to the third floor, wondering why Wedge doesn't think he could handle himself against a couple of drunk metalworkers. _Honestly_.

“So can I,” Bodhi smiles sharply, shifting his bag on his shoulder— Wedge gives him a _look_ when they reach the top of the stairs, hooking one finger in the strap of Bodhi’s bag and pulling him in for a kiss.

“You are _hiding_ something from me, mister supposedly sensitive artist,” Wedge muses, his eyes narrowed slightly— Bodhi simply smiles in reply, arching one eyebrow innocently.

“Am I?” he asks, leaning in for another brief kiss before pushing Wedge away with one finger on his chest— Wedge resists, just a bit, because he clearly wants to kiss him again, and Bodhi allows himself to feel a surge of satisfaction, because that’s— it’s a nice feeling, to be wanted, like this. He smiles, leaning back in, because one more won’t _hurt_ —

There’s a sudden, muffled shout of “Grab his junk!” from the door they’re standing in front of, and Bodhi jumps a little, leaning back quickly as Wedge curses. “Shut up and open the damn door, Hobbie!”

“What’s the password?”

“Open the fucking door before I tell Wes to weld another dick to your sculpt,” Wedge bites out, leaning forward to pound his fist on the door sharply— Bodhi snorts, shifting his bag on his shoulder as the door cracks open after a moment.

“Close enough,” Hobbie relents, smirking as he opens the door wider to permit entry— Wedge gently shoves him out of the way, and Bodhi ducks his head as he trails after his boyfriend, hiding a smirk.

“You’re just in time, Skywalker made whiskey sours,” Hobbie grins, holding up his own glass— Bodhi remembers the bottle in his bag and pulls it out, offering it with an arched brow, pleased that he managed to pick the right liquor for the night.

“My entry fee,” he smirks a bit as Hobbie takes the bottle with a low whistle, because it wasn’t the cheap stuff— Hobbie points at him with the bottle, looking very impressed and pleased.

“You? _You_ can stay,” he says, earning a snort and an eye roll from Wedge, who again, pushes him out of the way and grabs Bodhi’s wrist so he can drag him further into the apartment. It’s dimly lit and a little smokey, and Bodhi can hear Weezer playing in the background as they head into the living room—

“Well, _look_ who the hipster cat dragged in!” Wes calls out, grinning as he leans back in his chair, seated at a card table in the center of the room with two people Bodhi doesn’t recognize. “I’m surprised Antilles let you show, Bodhi.”

“ _Let_ me?” Bodhi drawls, arching one eyebrow with a very unamused expression— oh, this guy was going to be _fun_ to knock down a few pegs. Wedge slaps Wes upside the head as he passes behind him, glaring at the back of his friend's head.

“Stop being an ass,” he mutters, gesturing for Bodhi to join him as he pulls two more chairs up to the table next to his other friends. “Bodhi, this is Luke and Zev, guys, this is Bodhi. He brought _booze_ , so you’re not allowed to be assholes. Also, where the hell is Tycho?"

“Working like a pleb. Take all my fun away, why don’t you,” Zev chuckles, busy shuffling a deck of cards in his hands— the cute blond next to him, Luke, leans back in his chair and eyes Bodhi with a smirk— Bodhi averts his eyes, because being checked out by one of his boyfriend’s friends is— _slightly_ uncomfortable and awkward, to say the least.

“You guys thirsty?” Luke asks, pushing himself up out of his chair as he gives Bodhi a charming grin— Wedge glares and gives Luke a small shove as he sinks down into his chair, and Bodhi sinks down into the chair next to him as he nods.

“Whatever’s fine,” Bodhi mutters, slinging his bag over the back of his seat and making himself comfortable. Wedge casually slings one arm over the back of Bodhi's chair, scooting _just_ a bit closer, and Bodhi gives him a sideways look, lips twitching into a smile as Wedge’s fingers brush against his shoulder almost affectionately.

“Get a room,” Janson snorts, smirking as he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and drags one out with his teeth— Wedge flips him the bird using the hand on Bodhi’s shoulder, and Hobbie snickers as he joins everyone at the table.

“You play poker before, Rook?” Hobbie asks, taking a large swig of his drink— Bodhi schools his face into a neutral expression and shrugs one shoulder, trying to seem indifferent.

“Once or twice,” he lies, letting a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Wedge slants him a _look_ , one eyebrow arched suspiciously, but everyone else seems to buy it, and Bodhi resists the urge to smirk.

“We’ll go easy on ya,” Hobbie chuckles, though the look in his eyes says they’ll be doing anything _but_ that. “Besides, you can’t be any worse than _Skywalker_.”

“Fuck you, Hobbie,” Luke replies cheerfully as he returns to the table, setting two whiskey sours down in front of Wedge and Bodhi before taking his own seat. Everyone laughs, and Bodhi reaches for his drink, taking a sip as Zev starts to lay down the rules. Janson has the most shit-eating grin on his face as he winks across the table at Bodhi, and Bodhi arches one eyebrow as he takes another, heftier sip of his drink.

_Oh, this is gonna be good._

 

————

 

Bodhi plays it safe, the first two rounds, because he needs to figure out everyone’s tells before he goes all in on this— he loses half a pack of cigarettes, but he’ll win them back, so he doesn’t care.

Janson has the best face out of everyone, and even then, it’s not _that_ great— Wedge and Zev come next, and Hobbie and Luke might as well not even _try_ to have faces, because they’re _terrible_ at it. Honestly, this should be a damn cakewalk, he probably won't even have to try that hard.

“How ‘bout those pants, Rook? You wear your nice boxers like I asked?” Janson cracks from across the table, grinning as he tosses back a shot of whiskey— Wedge glares and flicks a card at him, but Bodhi simply smirks and lifts his glass so he can finish off his second whiskey sour.

“Let’s find out if you wore yours,” he responds, tilting his head to one side— Wedge groans and curses under his breath, while Hobbie and Luke both whistle as Janson’s eyes practically light up with glee.

“You’re _on_ , sweetheart.”

 

————

 

Two shots of whiskey, three cigarettes, and one godsent royal flush later, Bodhi leans back in his seat and uses his teeth to pull a fresh cigarette out of his pack as a smug sense of satisfaction fills him— Janson’s face is absolutely red as he stares, contorted in a mix of disbelief, rage, and _maybe_ a little respect.

“You fuckin’ _played_ me,” Janson whispers, still staring in disbelief— Hobbie and Luke are absolutely _cackling_ with delight, while Zev is smirking as he pours Bodhi another celebratory shot of whiskey. Wedge is staring at Bodhi like he kind of wants to throw him against the table and do some _highly_ inappropriate things, which, if Bodhi’s being perfectly honest, he wouldn’t entirely _mind_.

“How ‘bout those pants, Janson?” Bodhi muses, smiling as he flips his lighter out— Janson scowls and makes a strangled noise, while Hobbie slams his fist on the table, tossing his head back as he almost howls with laughter.

“Oh my _god_ , please come to every poker night from now on if _this_ is what happens,” Hobbie pleads, still giggling a bit as he reaches for his drink— Luke makes a sound of agreement, pulling his phone out with a grin as Janson pushes his chair back and stands, glaring at all of them.

“I’m gonna get you back for this, Rook,” Janson promises, narrowing his eyes as he rip open his belt— Bodhi shrugs one shoulder, watching with great amusement as Janson unzips and drops his jeans to reveal a pair of boxers with fucking pot leaves _and_ smiley faces on them. How cute. Hobbie is cackling again, while Luke is whistling as he tries to get the best angle for a video that looks like it _may_ be going out over Snapchat. 

“Looking forward to it,” Bodhi smirks, taking a drag off his cigarette— Wedge snorts loudly, trying very hard not to laugh as he leans over and nuzzles into Bodhi’s neck in a way that is _very_ distracting.

“I had no idea you were such a _devious_ little fucker, gorgeous,” Wedge whispers, and Bodhi’s bites his lip, cheeks going a little red as Wedge kisses and nuzzles at that one spot below his ear that _always_ makes him shiver.

“Lot of things about me you still don’t know,” Bodhi mutters, tilting his head to press a kiss against Wedge’s hair before he grabs the shot that Zev slides to him and tosses it back, enjoying the burn. Wedge actually _rumbles_ at him a little, and Bodhi coughs slightly, because getting turned on at the poker table is a _bad idea,_ they are taking this _slow_ and are surrounded by Wedge's _friends_ —

“Here’s your prize, you damn cheat,” Janson grunts, wadding his jeans up and flinging them across the table— Bodhi catches them with one hand and grins, saluting Janson with his cigarette before taking another drag and blowing the smoke out to the side, away from Wedge.

“Pleasure doing business with you, _sweetheart_.”

Everyone at the table bursts out laughing as Janson groans and drops back into his seat looking incredibly defeated, and Bodhi allows himself to bask in the satisfaction of taking that asswipe down a peg for a little longer before Zev tries to call the table to order again for the next round.

 

————

 

Bodhi wins himself a few more hands before deciding to take it easy— he’s had quite a bit to drink now, he doesn’t want to start throwing games just because he’s sloppy, he has a _reputation_ to maintain, after all.

“I _still_ think you cheated,” Janson grumbles as he returns to the table with a fresh drink and— is that a fucking _bong_? Both of Bodhi’s eyebrows shoot up, because yes, that is _definitely_ a bong that Wes is setting on the table— a rather nice one, honestly, handblown in a myriad of colors— along with a hand pipe that he produces from who knows where, since he still isn’t wearing _pants_.

“Is that one of Solo’s pieces?” Bodhi asks, tilting his head to the side as he studies it— Janson arches an eyebrow as he starts packing the bowl on the slide, and Hobbie has already snatched the hand pipe up so he can start packing that as well.

“You know Solo?” Janson asks, checking to make sure the bowl isn’t packed too tightly before he slips the slide back into the downstem— Bodhi snorts, and slides his lighter across the table as Janson looks around for one.

“I know his _work_ ,” Bodhi admits, leaning back in his chair— Solo was probably the best glassblower on campus, and while he couldn’t afford any of his water pipes, he _did_ have a rather nice hand pipe from him that he busted out from time to time-- usually after a particularly nasty peer review of one of his pieces.

“Thing of beauty, isn't it,” Janson chuckles, smirking as he grabs up the lighter— Wedge wanders out of the kitchen and drapes himself over Bodhi’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his neck as he sets a fresh whiskey sour on the table in front of him.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Wedge whispers against Bodhi’s ear, nuzzling against him— Bodhi makes a soft sound, tilting his head aside a bit, because the scrape of Wedge’s light stubble against his skin feels _quite_ nice right now. He hasn't smoked in a while, but he certainly wouldn't _mind_...

“You want the big boy pipe or the little boy pipe, Rook?” Hobbie asks, coughing slightly as he exhales after taking a hit off the hand pipe, which he slides across the table to Luke. Before Bodhi can respond, Janson is coughing out a laugh after taking a hefty hit off the bong, that shit-eating grin back on his face once more.

“I don’t know if Rook can handle this bad boy,” Janson chuckles, one eyebrow arched in challenge— Bodhi quirks his own brow in return and holds out his hand demandingly, because clearly, Janson didn't learn shit after Bodhi stripped him of his pants and dignity the _first_ time around. 

“Oh, _this_ is gonna be fuckin’ good,” Wedge mutters, looking caught between wary and slightly excited as Janson grins and passes the bong and lighter over the table into Bodhi’s waiting hand.

“You _sure_ you know to use that—“ Janson starts, but trails off, staring, because Bodhi is _already_ taking a hit _far_ larger and deeper than the one he’d just taken. “Well, _shit_.”

“Art student,” Luke coughs, giggling a little as he passes the hand pipe over to Zev. “Seriously, Wes, you think an art student _doesn’t_ know how to handle a bong?”

Janson rolls his eyes, and Bodhi feels smug at taking him down yet _another_ peg-- he sets the pipe aside, holding the hit as long as he can before exhaling with a slight cough— this stuff is a little better than what he usually gets, nice and smooth. Wedge is once _again_ staring at him like he wants to throw Bodhi down on the table and do terrible things, and Bodhi flushes a bit as he hands his boyfriend the lighter and slides the bong to him next, hoping to distract him from whatever he's thinking.

“I don’t smoke as much anymore, but it’s what got me through freshman year,” Bodhi admits, watching as Wedge also takes a fairly impressive hit— that _really_ shouldn’t be as attractive as it is, honestly. He grabs his drink to take a sip, mouth suddenly feeling a little dry as he turns his head away—

—but then Wedge’s fingers are grabbing Bodhi’s chin, tilting his face back towards him, and Bodhi can’t help the little moan that escapes him as Wedge fucking _shotguns_ the hit to him with an open-mouthed kiss. There’s whistling and hollering, but Bodhi is drunk enough to not care much, _especially_  since Wedge tastes like pot and whiskey and has one of his hands around the back of Bodhi’s neck, calloused fingertips stroking against his skin _very_ pleasantly--

“Wow, you should— do that again, so I can film it this time,” Luke whispers around another hit, his eyes watering slightly as he coughs it out and passes the pipe back to Hobbie, who nods vigorously in agreement. Wes is staring like he’s not sure whether to be disgusted or _jealous_ , and Zev is snickering as he pours a few more shots of whiskey to hand out.

“No PDA at the poker table,” Zev smirks, arching one eyebrow before he knocks back a shot. “That’s what Wes’ room is for, you know the rules.”

“Hey, _wait_ a second—“ Janson starts, glaring at Zev over the rim of the bong which he’s stolen back, but it’s too late— Wedge is already pulling Bodhi out of his chair, and Bodhi feels his face get very hot as he’s dragged out of the living room to a chorus of whistles, intoxicated laughter, and protests from Janson.

“ _Wedge_ ,” Bodhi hisses, stumbling slightly as his boyfriend drags him down the short hallway to a bedroom— this is _embarrassing_ , everyone knows what they’re _doing_ — he doesn't want these people to get the wrong _idea_ , seriously--

“I just wanna make out a little,” Wedge breathes out, voice gone husky in a way that makes Bodhi shiver— Wedge kicks the door shut and locks it, and— _okay_ , that doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, Bodhi’s feeling very relaxed all of a sudden as the pot starts to kick in, mixing with all the alcohol he’s had, and Wedge looks _very_ tempting all dark-eyed and intense as he grabs Bodhi around the waist—

“Okay,” is all Bodhi manages to whisper before Wedge’s lips are on his, hot and demanding, not soft and gentle, for once, which is new, and _good_ — Bodhi parts his lips with a whimper and clings to Wedge’s shoulders as his boyfriend backs him towards the bed, letting himself get pushed down, enjoying the heavy weight of Wedge’s body as it settles over him.

“You have _no_ fucking idea how hot you are, do you,” Wedge breathes out against his lips when they part for air, not giving Bodhi a chance to answer before he’s kissing him again— Bodhi moans and whimpers softly in the back of his throat, tasting pot and whiskey again as Wedge’s tongue glides against his, hot and slick and a _little_ overwhelming but good, _so_ fucking good— fuck, he's dizzy, and it's not just from the drugs and whiskey, and it's _amazing_ \--

Bodhi isn’t entirely sure how long they spend in Janson’s room— he’s too lost in the hot, demanding press of Wedge’s mouth, the little noises he makes when Bodhi pulls on his hair, the way his hands won’t stray past Bodhi’s waist, no matter how much he seems to _want_ to let them. Fuck, the way Wedge still manages to respect his boundaries, even like _this_ \-- Bodhi’s straddling Wedge’s lap, holding his face in his hands as they trade lazy, wet kisses, when someone pounds on the door and Bodhi nearly jumps out of his damn skin, completely startled.

“Pizza’s here, fuckbirds!” Janson calls through the door. “I swear to _god_ there better not be jizz on anything in there, I’ll fucking _murder_ you, Antilles…”

Bodhi feels his face go absolutely _red_ as he leans his forehead against Wedge’s, because he'd almost forgotten where the hell they were-- Wedge, however,  _grins_ , running his hands up Bodhi’s back as they both catch their breath. “I jizzed on _everything_ , have fun setting your room on fire, dickweed!”

Janson pounds on the door with a disgusted sound, and Bodhi snorts out a laugh, listening to him curse before he walks away. Wedge smirks and pushes in for another kissing, biting gently at Bodhi’s lower lip before he pulls away with a long suffering sigh and smooths some of Bodhi's hair out of his face. “C’mon, gorgeous, before Wes comes back and tries to pick the damn lock. I mean, he won't be _able_ to, but I don't want to the idiot to _hurt_ himself...”

Bodhi snorts again, allowing Wedge to pull him in for one last, lingering kiss before he climbs off of his lap— he’s a little less dizzy now, and he tries to smooth his clothes and hair back into some semblance of order, not wanting to embarrass himself _further_. Wedge doesn’t even bother straightening himself out, and Bodhi has to admit his hair _does_ look quite good all messed up like that, twisted around and falling across his brow in a very distracting manner—

Bodhi sucks in a deep breath, because he does not need to get distracted again by how— how _hot_ his boyfriend is while he’s still drunk and high, he’s embarrassed himself _enough_ by letting Wedge drag him off to his friend’s bedroom to make out like some damn _teenager_ in the middle of a damn get together—

“We should pick this up again later,” Wedge suddenly whispers in his ear from behind, sliding his arms around Bodhi’s waist and dropping a kiss on the side of his neck— Bodhi swallows hard and manages to nod, because— _yes_. That sounds like a wonderful plan, especially if it's somewhere a little more private than Janson's damn _bedroom,_ because he really, _really_ enjoys kissing his boyfriend, especially now that he's actually starting to _relax_ about it, a little. And Wedge is _still_ respecting his boundaries, which-- that makes Bodhi feel a little strange, because he's _still_ not used to it, but--

Wedge smiles against his neck, giving it a much softer kiss this time as he hugs Bodhi’s waist tightly, and Bodhi tells himself the sudden, incredibly warm flutter in his chest is just from all the alcohol, and not-- _not_ because he's realizing how much he _really_  likes Wedge.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy, I'm alive! Sorry all my updates are taking so long, I have a terrible case of writer's block on top of being in the process of getting ready for an across state move, so my life is a little hectic. 
> 
> Anyway, uh... this chapter got a little away from me, and I blame Wes entirely. Thanks, Wes. I'm also not *entirely* happy with it, but I'm just happy to get something out and update, so sorry if it isn't up to par.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onward, faithful steed.

 

 

The rest of the night goes by in an increasingly drunken, high daze of poker, shots, Wes singing along to Weezer far too loudly and off key while still sans pants, and Hobbie trying very unsuccessfully to get Luke to make out with him. All in all, it’s the most fun Bodhi’s had in quite a while, surprisingly.

It’s almost three in the morning by the time they leave, and Bodhi is dreading the trek back to his apartment, especially since he’s having a bit of a hard time walking and seeing straight. He leans heavily on Wedge once they get downstairs and outside, nuzzling into his shoulder a little as he groans— he should _not_ have drank that much, christ almighty.

“Just leave me here to die,” Bodhi mumbles, wondering if it’s possible to fall asleep standing up— Wedge chuckles and tilts his head, pressing a kiss against Bodhi’s hair, clearly not half as drunk, stoned, or tired as Bodhi is, the bastard.

“I’d rather not,” Wedge says, smiling as he helps Bodhi steady himself. “Do you— my apartment is a lot closer, if you want to crash there for tonight. I’ll be a perfect gentleman, promise, cross my heart, you can kick me in the junk if I’m not.”

“Wow, you sure know how to tempt me,” Bodhi snorts, considering the offer in his head for a moment— he does _not_ want to walk back to his apartment across town, and Wedge has been very respectful of his boundaries, honestly— Wedge has been in Bodhi’s bedroom often enough now, and nothing terrible has happened— and Bodhi hasn’t even been to Wedge’s apartment before, he’s a little curious, he has to admit. What the hell?

“Deal. But you have to carry me, because… I’m drunk, and lazy,” Bodhi agrees after another moment of consideration, pressing a kiss against Wedge’s neck, because it's a very nice neck. Wedge laughs, sounding a little surprised, and hooks his fingers under Bodhi’s chin to pull him in for a kiss, which— yes, please, more of _that_ —

“Where’ve you been all my life?” Wedge mutters, eyes dark and warm and not quite as hazy as Bodhi’s, but full of something that makes Bodhi shiver just a little— Wedge shifts and crouches down a bit, glancing over his shoulder with a smirk. “Climb aboard, then, gorgeous.”

Bodhi grins as he climbs onto Wedge’s back, looping his arms around Wedge’s neck and squeezing his legs around his boyfriend’s waist tightly, and— okay, Bodhi might giggle a little as Wedge secures his hands under Bodhi's thighs and hoists Bodhi higher and more securely as he straightens out. “Onward, faithful steed.”

“Neigh,” Wedge snorts, and hitches Bodhi a bit higher on his back before he starts to walk, and oh, that’s— the muscles in Wedge’s very nice shoulders are flexed and tight, and that’s _very_ distracting to Bodhi in his current state. He may or may not shift his grip so he can give them a proper feel, fingers twitching as he traces the hard lines of muscle— Bodhi wonders if Wedge would take his shirt off for a charcoal study— he probably would, all too willingly— fuck, Wedge without a shirt on, Bodhi shouldn’t be thinking about that, _especially_ not right now.

Wedge's grip on Bodhi's thighs tightens a bit, making him squirm a little, and he can't help but grin at the muttered, "You're going to be the death of me, gorgeous," that Wedge mutters under his breath.

Bodhi assures Wedge that it'll be a good death, and Wedge's rumble of warm laughter definitely doesn't send a jolt of heat straight to Bodhi's core. _Definitely_ not.

  
\-----

  
"Hang on tight, gorgeous, I need a hand for this."

Bodhi hums and obediently tightens his legs and arms around Wedge while he lets go to fumble around for his keys, managing to get the door to his apartment unlocked and kicking it shut behind him after he carries Bodhi inside. "Well, here we are-- don't worry, I cleaned all my spank rags off the floor this morning."

Bodhi snorts, muttering "Charming," under his breath as he looks around-- the only light is coming from a lamp on the nightstand by the bed, but it's enough to see that the studio apartment is small, but fairly tidy, with a few random metal sculptures tucked into corners or hanging on the walls. The bed takes up the most space-- the bed that Bodhi finds himself dropped on rather quickly, and oh, those are rather nice sheets, actually, much softer than they look, and they smell like _Wedge_ \-- Wedge, who is currently groaning as he stretches and cracks his back, shirt riding up to reveal a strip of pale skin and dark hair that Bodhi finds _very_ interesting, at the moment.

"Well, you're more fun than hauling around sheet metal, at least," Wedge muses, arching one eyebrow as he smirks down at Bodhi, though there's-- there's _something_ in his dark gaze, something almost nervous-- which Bodhi supposes is understandable, he's sprawled out on Wedge's bed being a drunken mess-- Wedge's bed, which is very comfy, and Bodhi can't help himself as he wiggles against the sheets while toeing his boots off.

"You certainly know how to compliment a man," Bodhi murmurs, grinning a bit as he pushes himself up on his elbows and reaches out, managing to snag Wedge's shirt in his grasp so he can pull him down onto the bed. Wedge goes more than willingly, letting out a soft grunt as he falls on top of Bodhi and braces himself up on his arms, and oh, yes, that's-- it's _very_ nice, the way Wedge's warm, solid body covers Bodhi's. He rather likes that.

"You know me, I do my best," Wedge breathes out, swallowing hard as he meets Bodhi's gaze, shifting on one arm so he can carefully brush some of Bodhi's hair from his face-- and it's probably odd, that the soft touch of Wedge's calloused fingers on his face is what makes Bodhi shudder and want to whine, but-- he's not going to think about it, not when Wedge's face is so close to his, and it's so very easy to lift his arms and pull Wedge's lips down to meet his in a slightly needy kiss, because oh, he _really_ needs this, right now.

Wedge is-- it's not quite as frantic, as it had been back in Janson's room, though it's _better_ , somehow-- Wedge's mouth is hot and wet, still tasting like whiskey and pot, and Bodhi whines low in his throat as he digs his fingers into the well-defined muscles of Wedge's shoulders, a little fascinated by the way Wedge moans and shivers in response. Wedge's hands are-- they're still remaining well above Bodhi's waist, but he's working on unfastening Bodhi's vest, which-- that's good, that's fine, it's constricting anyway-- and once that's done, he can feel Wedge's fingertips brushing hesitantly over the buttons on his shirt, questioning, and Bodhi whimpers a little as their lips finally break apart.

"It's-- you can-- I usually sleep shirtless anyway," Bodhi pants out, his cheeks burning as he stares up at Wedge from under his lashes-- this still counts as _slow_ , he still has his jeans on, it'll be-- it'll be fine, hell, he's starting to sweat anyway, and so is Wedge-- Wedge, who's staring at him with very dark eyes as he hesitantly pops open one button on Bodhi's shirt.

"You sure, gorgeous?" Wedge asks, voice a bit husky, and Bodhi shivers, nodding even as he grabs Wedge around the back of his neck to haul him down for another kiss-- he's sure, he _very_ sure, but he appreciates Wedge asking all the same, his heart fluttering a little because Wedge-- Wedge respects him, doesn't want to push him, and that's-- _fuck_.

Bodhi arches up a little as he feels Wedge working the rest of the buttons on his shirt open, a small whine escaping his throat when Wedge pushes it open, fingers skimming along Bodhi's ribs, brushing across one of his nipples in a way that makes him gasp-- and then Wedge's lips are gone, leaving Bodhi gasping and whimpering as they trail down his neck instead, now, dipping lower-- and oh, _christ_ , that's Wedge's tongue tracing over the sharp line of Bodhi's collarbones, and it's so fucking good, he wants-- he wants _more_.

"Fuck-- please," Bodhi gasps, not entirely sure what he's begging for as he slides his fingers through Wedge's stupidly soft, dark hair, gripping it tightly-- but Wedge seems to understand, and Bodhi whines sharply as he feels Wedge's teeth dragging gently over his skin, lighting up all kinds of new nerve endings.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Bodhi, _fuck_ ," Wedge groans against Bodhi's skin, mouth hot and wet and _everywhere_ , and Bodhi can't really do anything but whimper and pant in response, his hips starting to roll up almost of their own accord-- he's achingly hard, suddenly, something he'd normally be embarrassed about, but then Wedge's hips are rolling against his in return, and Bodhi thinks his brain might melt when he feels how hard Wedge is, even through the layer of denim covering them both-- okay, this is-- more, yes, _please_.

"Need-- ah, yes, Wedge," Bodhi whimpers, tossing his head back against the sheets, which Wedge apparently takes as an invitation, his mouth latching onto Bodhi's neck again, teeth worrying at his skin hard enough to bruise-- and then Wedge's hands are on Bodhi's hips, hitching them up as he manhandles Bodhi around a little, and-- _yes_ , fuck, right there-- Bodhi rolls his hips up with a moan as Wedge finds the right angle to slot their hips together, grinding against him rather shamelessly, rather glad for his sudden lack of inhibition, because the noise Wedge makes in response is absolutely _amazing_.

Things get a little hazy, after that-- Bodhi gets lost in the sensation of Wedge's hot, wet mouth everywhere on his skin, the way the muscles of Wedge's back and shoulders coil under his grip, the feel of Wedge's hard cock grinding against his own, even through their layers of clothing-- the way Wedge fucking whimpers Bodhi's name, like it's something fucking _sacred_ \-- it's all too much, and not _enough_ , somehow.

Bodhi's orgasm seem to hit him out of nowhere, almost-- Wedge rolls his hips hard, teeth worrying another mark into Bodhi's neck, and Bodhi cries out sharply as sparks explode across his vision, his hips bucking up as heat floods his limbs and makes him feels _wonderfully_ hazy. He barely has time to register that he just came in his pants like a fucking teenager before Wedge is making a sharp, desperate sound of his own, his lips capturing Bodhi's in a hard kiss, and-- oh, the way Wedge shakes and whimpers when he comes is-- Bodhi moans softly with delight against Wedge's lips as the kiss gentles, drawing Wedge down against him, and-- okay, that was-- that was... _good_. Fuck.

They both kind of just lie there, for a bit, catching their breath-- Bodhi can feel the unpleasant wetness of what just happened spreading in his boxers, and feels his face heat up again, sure that Wedge is feeling something similar. Okay, that was-- not _exactly_ what he'd been planning on happening tonight, but--

"Are you-- was that okay?" Wedge asks, interrupting Bodhi's thoughts-- he sounds a little breathless, still, and maybe a little embarrassed, but-- pleased, which-- yeah, that about sums it up, really. Bodhi swallows hard and opens his eyes, smiling a little shyly when he sees Wedge looking at him like he's scared that maybe he's screwed up, and tilts his head up so he can press a kiss against Wedge's jaw.

"It was-- I'm _good_ , it was good-- though I kind of feel like I'm fourteen again," Bodhi admits, cheeks heating up as Wedge huffs out a soft, relieved laugh, his owns cheeks flushed as he dips his head down to kiss Bodhi properly.

"Yeah, that's-- definitely haven't done that in a while," Wedge admits with a chuckle, his eyes soft as he pushes himself up on his elbows, making a bit of his face. "I, uh-- I've got some sleep pants you can borrow. And you can borrow some jeans tomorrow, if you want."

"Thank you," Bodhi murmurs, smiling and feeling a little less embarrassed as Wedge kisses him again-- well, at least they _both_ had embarrassed themselves-- and he supposes it wasn't that embarrassing, it had felt... pretty damn fucking good, after all. "That was-- we should-- maybe lose the pants, next time, first." Bodhi pauses for a moment, brow furrowing. "And your shirt."

Wedge laughs and presses another kiss to Bodhi's lips before he leans back on his heels-- Bodhi's eyes are drawn to the wet spot on his jeans, and he resists the urge to snicker, knowing he's in the same state-- besides, Wedge is pulling his shirt off now, and-- his breath catches a little, because yes, Wedge's shirt _definitely_ needs to come off first, next time.

"Sorry, sweetheart-- here, let me grab you those pants," Wedge chuckles, rolling off the bed and going to rummage through his dresser-- he tosses Bodhi a pair of sweatpants and directs him to the bathroom, and Bodhi can't resist dropping a soft kiss on Wedge's bare shoulder as he passes by, giving him a shy, sweet smile.

"Thanks," Bodhi mutters before he ducks into the bathroom, frowning a little as he cleans himself up-- his boxers are a mess, but his jeans aren't too terrible, at least. He tosses his boxers into the trash before he changes into the sweats, then takes a moment to splash some water on his face, a little startled as he catches his reflection in the mirror-- his hair is a mess, and his neck is covered in dark marks-- fuck, he's going to have to wear a scarf for a _week_ , he's lucky he has so many. Still, there's something... oddly pleasing, about them-- though he's sure Wedge is going to be insufferable every time he looks at them. Oh, well.

By the time Bodhi ducks out of the bathroom, Wedge has changed into a pair of sleep pants and made the bed, which looks _very_ inviting-- fuck, Bodhi's tired after all that-- it's been a _long_ night. He smiles a bit as he crawls into the bed where Wedge is waiting for him, accepting the soft kiss Wedge presses to his lip as he holds the blankets up so Bodhi can slip underneath them. Wedge hits the lights as soon as Bodhi's comfortable, slipping in beside him, and this-- this part is the _really_ nice part, Bodhi thinks, letting himself be drawn into Wedge's arms, their legs tangling together as he rests his head against Wedge's chest, eyes closed as he listens to the soft beat of Wedge's heart beneath his warm skin.

"I'm glad you're here, Bodhi," Wedge murmurs quietly in the dark, his fingers stroking over Bodhi's hair, and Bodhi smiles as he nuzzles into Wedge's chest a bit more, placing a soft kiss against his skin and trying not to think too much about how used to this he could get-- he's sure in the morning, once he's a little more sober, he might freak out, but for now-- for now, he's just going to enjoy this moment while he can, before his brain has a chance to overprocess it.

"So am I, Wedge... so am I."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh... I'm alive? Sorry for the very long absence, but, y'know, life. I'm going to TRY and start updating some of my fics again, but I wouldn't count on it happening regularly-- I'm still surprised I managed to squeeze this out, honestly. But, uh, I return with very short, awkward teen-level grinding? Enjoy?
> 
> Shoutout to morag for encouraging me to write again, too.

**Author's Note:**

> So, because one AU wasn't enough, my brain threw THIS idea at me, and here we are. Like my life wasn't rough enough dealing with one rarepair hell fic.. 
> 
> POV will be switching between chapters, depending on who I feel like writing. I have an outline of where I want to take this, but who knows how long it'll take to get there.. hopefully someone enjoys the adventure! <3
> 
> ALSO, this fic now has a playlist! Go give it a listen [here!](https://open.spotify.com/user/attackedastoria/playlist/0ap28vVsnslgHSSIN5WXk8)


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